Opposites Attract
by LYKAchan
Summary: For the great and popular Sakura Kinomoto, making low-class Li Syaoran fall for her ought to be a piece of cake--only they HATE each other enough for a lifetime and more. How will she pull it off? And if she does, will it be as easy to pull herself out?
1. The High Life

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hey, guys! Really sorry I haven't updated in so long. I've finally come up with a 19th chapter and I hope you'll all enjoy it. Also, I've re-posted all of the other chapters, _some of them heavily edited_. Some of the chapters have been shortened, some passages deleted, some replaced, and some conversations and streams of thoughts even edited. Also, I changed all the * * *'s and (scene shift:)s into (CUT)s, because, really, that's what they are. Apologies if they look a little ridiculous.

Anyway, I decided to do the edits because my style has changed significantly since I first began to write this story. In Chapter XII (Lunch), for example, I added a little more oomph at the last part (rock on, sweetness). I also changed some strands of thought in Syaoran's head during the shopping/makeover chapters. Also, I changed the names of the additional in-crowd girls: Kia became Hana, Mica became Kaori, and Andrea became Haia. Ria stayed the same. It doesn't really make much of a difference for everyone who has already read the story, but for the new readers (at least, I hope there will be some), I want these girls to be more Japanese-y rather than just a patched-together squad of foreign faces.

I wouldn't demand it of you to read the edited chapters (though that would be cool), but I do recommend that you at least skim through the 18th chapter before reading the 19th. A lot of the emotions in the 19th take off from the 18th, and the developments might be a little shocking if you don't read back a bit. Haha. As always, please read and review. ^^

I - The High Life

Tomoyo Daidouji strode across the velvety stretch of Bermuda on her way back into her new school building. Her wavy tresses swayed behind her, rippling black and purple in the sunlight; her thick-lashed amethyst eyes were serene. Quite an eye-catcher, she nevertheless stepped her way to the building without affectations. She wore clothes that were up-to-date, and thus not in the least unusual by themselves, but she wore the trend with a flavor of her own that made all the difference.

A group of girls stood by the sidelines in their psychedelic ensembles, watching the students who passed by with narrow eyes prepared to criticize. They exuded the unlicensed confidence of people who were popular simply because they proclaimed themselves to be and a few people fell for it. With nothing else to do, and because their power was purely reliant on their appearance of power, they lounged about sorting people into classes and labels—high, middle and low.

Sakura Kinomoto's emerald eyes followed the new girl's graceful movements. She looked towards Nachika Hayli, leader of the popularity company, for her judgment. The girl nodded, mutely, her thick-lashed brown eyes trailing Tomoyo. Sakura smiled. She stood up and walked, that is, sashayed over to the girl, delicate hand reaching out to tap a shoulder and then offer a handshake, which the beautiful girl accepted with a gracious rather than grateful smile. A few more seconds and Sakura was guiding her to the group.

"Girls, this is Tomoyo Daidouji." She clapped a hand on Tomoyo's shoulder.

Tomoyo tossed her head and silky black curls to the side in an enthusiastic smile. "Hi."

"Welcome to existence," Hayli said, giving her a wry smile. "The name's Hayli. And this is Chiharu, Naoko, and, as you probably already know, Sakura. The others don't hang out with us in the mornings so you'll meet up with them during lunch period. Meanwhile…" She motioned with her head for Tomoyo to have a seat with them.

And, as the unwitting new recruit sat, so was she inducted.

(CUT)

"Hana, Ria, Kaori and Haia," Hayli told Tomoyo, pointing to a group of girls already seated around the table in what might have been varying degrees of prettiness had they not made themselves up into powdered, eyelined, and lip-tinted homogeny. "That's just about it. The boys, of course, don't hang with the girls. They trash the ramps most of their free time, but we find time to bond."

"Right. I'm Tomoyo."

The other four nodded their acknowledgements. "Yeah, we know."

"So are you sticking around?" Haia asked.

"Well, I'll be in the neighborhood for as long as I'm wanted in the neighborhood," Tomoyo replied.

"Well, great. Sit down."

Hayli, Tomoyo, Sakura, Chiharu and Naoko seated themselves around the table, each gearing up with their own fresh loads of gossip and basic facts on life to teach Tomoyo.

"Now, when it comes to The Sorting…" Hana said, looking at Tomoyo from beneath her lashes. The capitalization could be heard in her voice. "You have to know when people are in or when people are out. It's essential that you know how—"

"Check-up test!" Chiharu cheered.

"Well, why not?" Hayli drawled, enjoying her power as everyone turned to her and listened as if the idea had been hers. She leaned her elbows casually on the table. Her eyes flickered towards Tomoyo. "What do you think of him?" she asked, motioning to Yamazaki, a guy ranting away animatedly at the next table.

Tomoyo gave the guy a momentary glance and shrugged. "Well, cute. Perfect for _you_, I'd imagine." She looked pointedly at Chiharu, who flushed, eyes widening.

"We're going out," she admitted.

Hayli beamed. "Very nice, Tomoyo. Hmmm…"

"What about Eriol-kun?" Sakura asked, nodding towards a dark-haired boy clad in glasses, midnight eyes shining with a quiet brilliance and intelligent mirth.

Heat crept up Tomoyo's cheeks. This time, her glance was not so brief. "Oh, he's…he seems nice," she mumbled.

"He _is _nice," Sakura said.

Tomoyo snatched her gaze away.

"Who would have thought you'd be a natural?" Naoko murmured, approvingly.

Sakura didn't bother with compliments, although she, too, was rather impressed. "And how about Rika?" she prodded on.

Tomoyo followed her emerald gaze. "My guess would be…she isn't exactly...your type," she mused aloud. "She's…timid…"

"What class?" Sakura pressed.

"I don't believe it should matter, but I think you'd say...middle?"

"Middle of?"

"Your 'high class' and your 'low class'. What other middle is there?"

"Lots of other middles, Tomoyo—and you're wrong," Sakura said, pulling a celery stick out of a little plastic cellophane and munching on it. "She's in the middle of middle class and low class."

Tomoyo shrugged. "Whatever you say," she said, and she shook her head, a ghost of a grin on her face.

"So…what about…" Suddenly, Sakura's eyes narrowed in pure contempt, as she caught sight of a lone boy about to exit the cafeteria. "…Him?"

Tomoyo traced Sakura's line of vision to find a blank-faced chestnut-haired boy, messy locks flowing over his forehead and concealing dark eyes she couldn't quite decipher as black or brown. She hesitated. He was good enough to be the ultimate heartthrob, in her opinion, only the scowl wasn't much of an accessory.

"He's perfect for you," she said, finally.

There were sharp intakes of breath all around the table.

Hayli let loose a tense, unpleasant laugh. "You're very funny, Daidouji!" she exclaimed. "Really. Haha. Li Syaoran? _Perfect_ for my best friend, Sakura Kinomoto!? Mercy, but he can't even talk!"

The amethyst-eyed girl scowled a little. "You guys _must _be bluffing," she said, motioning with a hand to indifferent Syaoran. "I can tell: he's calm, he's sure, he's aloof—he's cool."

"Yeah, freezing," Kaori mumbled to Chiharu, who giggled.

Hayli shook her hair and rolled her eyes, heaving a little groan. "Oh, _not_ cool, _definitely_ not cool…" she grumbled.

"Well, I say you people are blind," Tomoyo said, stubbornly.

Kaori's eyes widened. "_Tomoyo_." She loaded the name with reprimand.

Hana wrinkled her nose. "You didn't _mean _that," she said. For some reason, her voice lacked all the emotion that was on her face.

Haia looked towards Syaoran and sighed. "Fine, so he's a _little_ cute," she muttered. A small, perverse grin crept up on her lips, which she shook off after a momentary thought, as she rolled her eyes and shuddered. "But he's _so_ nerdy."

"Tell me about it," Ria chimed in.

Hayli faced Tomoyo with a smug look, challenging her to beat what the rest of the gang thought of him.

"You did _not _just call him nerdy," Tomoyo said, not in the least daunted, "because I can see a lot of things about him that tell otherwise."

The others merely rolled their eyes. "Oh, make me barf, Tomoyo," Naoko scoffed. "You don't know him. You're just a new girl, after all."

"Looks _can_ be quite deceiving, you know," Chiharu informed her. "Yamazaki-kun said so."

"Oh, you guys lay off her," Sakura snapped, losing interest in the topic. "Let's all just leave that tongue-tied psycho alone. I think everyone would agree that shutting up will be good for all of us."

"But he _is_ kind of cute, right, Sakura?" Tomoyo said. Her amethyst eyes flashed. She was adamant.

Sakura rolled her eyes. "I hate the guy with every fiber of my being, but to shut you up—fine! He's cute! He's a to-die-for hunk. Happy?" She shook her head with a huff and sipped at her iced tea.

The rest of the girls stared, dumbfounded. "_Fine!?_" Hayli echoed, after some moments of stuck silence. They all apparently believed her. "You said _fine!?!?"_ And, as if that was their cue, the rest of the gang broke into disgusted squeals. Sakura shook her head. What total airheads!

Tomoyo smiled. "Yes, she said fine," she reiterated, calmly. "And she said he's a to-die-for hunk to top that off. He deserves high class."

"Lower than low," Chiharu countered. "He's the meanest loser of all! Sakura hates him!"

"I didn't _mean_ what I said, Tomoyo," Sakura grumbled, but Hayli burst before anyone could hear her.

"_LOW!_" the most popular girl emphasized, facing Tomoyo, apparently frustrated. "End of discussion, and don't you dare start again!" She pointed a manicured finger at her.

"Sakura?" Tomoyo, clearly aggravated, turned to face the quietly swearing honey-haired beauty beside her. She evidently expected Sakura to speak up and defend _their_ side.

"Yeah, okay, just shut up!" Sakura burst out. "Look, I only said what I said to shut you all up, now quit talking about him! It's getting disgusting and you guys are _humiliating_ the entire group—"

"Oooh, she's blushing!" Haia shrieked.

Sakura glared at her. "Shut your lying mouth, Haia! Spare us all!"

Syaoran had already left the room, ignorant of anything. Tomoyo bit her lip. The rest of the girls had huge, dopey grins on their faces, clearly having taken what Haia said to heart.

Then there was a moment of silence.

Hayli suddenly adopted a strange smile, so transparently wicked that Tomoyo almost imagined a sudden chill in the air. "Ne, Sakura…" she purred, honey-colored eyes adopting strange glints of guile.

Sakura looked at her, still simmering. "Yeah, what is it?"

"If you love him so much—"

"Shut up, Hayli."

"Oh dear!" the other girl exclaimed in a fake, breathy falsetto. She winked at the other girls so quickly Sakura couldn't trace it. They giggled. "And just now you spoke of him so affectionately—"

"I said lay off the topic."

"Oh, Sakura…" Hayli inched closer to Sakura and rested her head on her friend's shoulder. "You must have been hiding all these feelings from us for so long…"

"Hay, quit it. You know I hate the guy."

Tomoyo looked confused.

Hayli giggled. "Can you prove it then, Sakura…?" she whispered.

Sakura blinked, suddenly on guard. "What are you talking about?"

"You see, best friend, your words and actions don't match, so you have to _make_ them match. Say…" She pretended to think. "Oh I know! Make him fall in love with you and then dump him—dump him like a boiled, hot potato." She giggled. "Yeah. I kind of miss seeing you bitch around and hook a _cute _guy or two."

A pair of emerald eyes widened.

"Why not?" Hayli hissed, her coated red lips curling into a smile. "Li Syaoran." She loved the way Sakura was flaring up. It was bound to be one wild ride to see somebody who's a somebody go after that dork.

"Get off me, Hayli!" Sakura shouted, shaking her friend's face off her shoulder. "I am _not_ doing it!"

"Oh," Hayli twirled a strand of hair around her finger, slyly, batting her long lashes and feigning disappointment. "Then you _do_ love him, don't you? You like him more than you like us. You do not want to risk hurting his feelings, because you actually think he has some. You don't want him to hate you. You're scared you'll break his heart. Aww…isn't that sweet?"

All the rest of the girls except for Tomoyo, kiss-asses that they were, echoed her. "Aww…"

Sakura burned. "He _already_ hates me, Hayli, and you know what? I have no problem with that—because I hate him too! I'm not that low," she growled. "I deserve better."

"Like I said, why don't you prove it?" Hayli murmured, walking two fingers up Sakura's arm, slyly.

Sakura slammed both hands down on the table top and from her seat, glaring down at her so-called friend. "Fine! You think I can't do it? You wish. I'll make you eat what you spat out and add some spit of my own!" She leaned closer to Hayli's face and smugly hissed. "Oh, he'll be mine, make no mistake about that, Nachika. But I won't ever be his. _Ever_."

And she stalked off.

(CUT)

TBC


	2. Sugar and Spice

II - Sugar and Spice

"Hey, Syaoran…er…kun!" Sakura winced in disgust at the attachment as she sashayed over to the blank-faced boy. She knew he was in her next class.

Syaoran, who was busy getting lost in his own world, floating from class to class as if he were invisible, jerked from his trance. He turned around, jolts of surprise and anger running through his amber eyes before he relaxed and tilted his head away from her direction—and not without discreetly rolling his eyes either.

He was clearly keen on ignoring her.

"Hey! Hey! Wait up!" Sakura called, cursing under her breath at his indifference. She had vowed while going out of the cafeteria _never _to touch him unless absolutely necessary, but from the way things looked, she feared she just might have to.

Yeah. You know. Gulp.

Syaoran stopped. Allowed her to come near him. "What do you want?" Coldly.

Sakura almost raised an eyebrow at him. Yes, it was impressive that he handled himself so well in front of her—not everyone could stand near her and not gush, swoon or scamper away—but Li Syaoran was not the kind of person she wanted impressing her.

_I'll change that_.

She flashed him her killer smile with as much sincerity she could muster, which was practically none. "We have our next class together, right? Well, I remember. So maybe we could walk together. Come on, we'll be late."

Syaoran shook his head, not at all missing the one-sidedness of the conversation. "Not that I care, but you're not good at faking things," he commented, and he moved off down the hall in a blatant declination of her invite.

Sakura cursed a string of curses in her mind before determinedly following him. "Oh, come on, Syaoran-kun. I'm considering here. Maybe there's a possibility that you might want to patch things up with me, so—"

"Scratch that."

"What?"

"No."

Sakura's lips tightened. Oh, how she loathed him; and how she loathed that she needed him. If there was anything she knew best about Hayli, it was that her so-called best friend loved being a bitch about things like these. She would not lay off the subject for as long as forever.

She shifted her gaze to look at Syaoran's hand, stuck inside his pocket while the other carried his textbook, a mini-dictionary, another book on college algebra, and a binder.

She looked away to think.

Could she dare? Could she lower herself enough to initiate skin contact?

She stole another glance—and blanched.

His clothes needed a _major _makeover and his hair—his hair, or that mess of brown strands masquerading as hair! Did he not know he could actually tame those with a comb and a bit of hair gel? The scowl wasn't a sexy scowl either; it was a downright bitter scowl. As for his clothes…well, she would put herself in a bad mood for a month if she tried to critique his clothes.

She eyed his arm again, inwardly wincing, and gulped in a huge breath of air. Well, drastic situations call for drastic measures…

_Go, go, Sakura!_

And she looped her arm through his.

(CUT)

Syaoran almost jerked away at the sudden ambush of weight on his arm. His amber eyes flicked downwards, blatantly surprised for a moment, and when he realized what had latched on to him, he barely managed to keep his cringe a secret.

This Sakura girl was up to something. All she ever did before concerning him was announce to the world he was a blind jerk when he slammed into her in the halls on the first day of classes (so he forgot to say sorry aloud, so what?), and also pasting him with his current reputation (nah, not during or because of that incident; they've been through worse).

In a nutshell, she had no business putting her arm through his!

"What are you doing?" he demanded, quietly, sharply.

Sakura's emerald eyes lifted in surprise before she recovered a more relaxed look. "Huh? Why? What?" she asked.

More tension seeped into his body. "Release my arm, _please_."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "It's a habit. I do this with people, you know—that is, with friends…" She smiled, thinking that last bit a pretty smooth adlib.

Syaoran looked unconvinced. "I can't see your point, if you have one."

Sakura gritted her teeth. "I like it better than not doing it, okay?"

He decided she was crazy. "Why?"

"Well, _because--!_"Sakura stopped herself from snapping at him. "Because-it-makes-me-feel-more-comfortable, Syao-ran-kun."

Syaoran caught the edge in her voice. "Then you better get used to _not_ doing it with _me_," he said, and he tugged his arm from her grasp.

"Well, I'd be more than happy to, you—you—UH! Whatever you say…" Sakura detangled her arm from his and tried with all her might to look unaffected, just for the sake of it.

Halfway up the stairs to the second floor, Syaoran again opened an unpleasant subject he had wanted to say since the moment he heard her fake falsetto calling out to him. "Your little cheerleader friend, Mihara, is in this class too. Maybe you would rather spend time with her. I would like you to. I mean—hell, if you lost a bet—"

"What?"

"You're being more of a fraud than usual. What's the occasion?"

Sakura forced a smile. Damn, he was good with insults. "Would you lighten up, Syaoran-kun? I'm just getting to class too."

"I'd lighten up if you'd leave me alone. I have no interest escorting prom queens."

"Hey, I'm not the prom queen," Sakura retorted, jiggling at his arm a little.

"You know what I mean!" Syaoran snapped, losing his temper as her touch sent adrenaline flowing through his veins. "Ah, forget it. Just stay out of my way."

Sakura was shocked. Syaoran Li definitely was not a nerd, or a dork, or a creep, or any predicate associated with the low-class category! Tomoyo was right! He was one of the most challenging people she had ever had a conversation with!

_Well, I hate being wrong._

She shook her head.

_Well, of course I'm not wrong! We're talking about Li Syaoran here! A low specimen. A nobody. The fact that he could actually _talk_ doesn't wipe out the fact that he wears stuff from the 1800's! Chill out, Sakura, or you'll lose your pride. Get with the program!_

Syaoran noticed her sudden silence with relief. He was starting to get uneasy. She, with her flowing honey hair, sparkling emerald eyes, three-inch platforms, leather mini, sassy little shirt and cosmetics-filled cheeks—he hated all of her.

"May I sit with you?" she suddenly asked.

Syaoran's amber eyes darted towards her. A surge of revulsion, and with carefully controlled venom: "Unfortunately, it's a free country—"

"_Great_!" It was, very embarrassingly, a squeal.

Syaoran resisted the urge to flush. _Somebody save me from this theatrical catastrophe._ Then his eyes widened as wide as they could go when he felt her hug his arm on impulse, big bolts of electric current breaking loose all over his body. He pulled at his arm hard.

"Oh!" She broke away, and Syaoran knew she was all too happy to. He couldn't get why she had to do it. It was totally useless.

Sakura's hopes of running to the bathroom and vomiting her tummy out crashed and broke into a zillion pieces when she found that the classroom was suddenly gaping in front of them. She didn't know how she survived the session beside him. If it was any consolation prize, she found his barely concealed agony very entertaining. It didn't matter that a bigger portion of her thought it was downright annoying. Of course it didn't.

(CUT)

"Kinomoto," Syaoran murmured, eyes not looking at her but straight ahead. "I thought I told you to lay off."

"I know, but you also said it's a free country." She was feeling very sick and queasy after half a day of sweet pretense.

She reconsidered the wisdom of forcing herself into his company on the way home. On normal days, she waited for Hayli and took a luxury trip in Eriol's convertible to the mall after classes, but she knew this was a dare that she had to win as soon as possible. She had to get him used to her being there all the time, and then he had to get used to having a crush on her, and then he had to fall for her, eventually. She couldn't waste any time putting that plan into motion.

Syaoran refused to reply, her answer less than satisfactory for him. He hated the way he was feeling so wrong. He hated the way she was acting so falsely. He hated the fact that he was too confused and angry to realize if she was kidding or not. He hated not being able to decipher whether this was a joke or if Sakura had suddenly flipped.

He hated it more than he hated her—and that was saying something.

"Kino."

"What?"

"Out with it. What kind of trick-Syaoran-quick game is it this time?"

"Crap, Syaoran, stop asking stupid questions!" Sakura blurted out. She longed to accentuate the reprimand with a slap. How she wished she could be as mean to him as she wanted to be again. (Of course, she knew that he had received more than enough meanness from her to last him two lifetimes. The biggest punishment he could find was being stuck with her for four whole hours.)

Syaoran shut his mouth then, not because he felt intimidated, but because he didn't want to hear her voice shrieking into his ear anymore. She was _way _too difficult to figure out and he didn't think she was worth it if he tried.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Syaoran-kun," Sakura sighed.

"Huh? For what?" Syaoran raised his amber eyes and stared at her from beneath strands of messy chestnut hair.

"I'm sorry. It's just...I'm tired is all..."

Silence reigned.

"Listen, Kino…" he started.

Sakura cringed at the nickname. Only Eriol was allowed to call her that! "What?" she asked, through clenched teeth.

Syaoran paused. Then—"Go home." And he broke away from her, crossing the street to follow his own pathway to his apartment.

_Good riddance. _

The thought was mutual.

(CUT)

TBC


	3. The Spark of Something Different

III - The Spark of Something Different

"So how's your relationship with Li-kun coming?" Daidouji Tomoyo asked, while walking with Sakura to their Literature class, her voice seeming slightly strained. She was clearly still appalled at having lost a debate concerning tastes. "It's been—what—four days?"

Sakura sighed. "Today's the fifth and I won't say he's not difficult," she replied, rolling her large, emerald-green eyes. "It may take a while but I'm not about to let Hayli and those other so-called friends go and make a fool of me."

Tomoyo tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "An assignment like this shouldn't be too difficult for a girl like you," she said, forcing more cheer into her voice. "You've probably done it a thousand times before…"

"No, actually, this is my first—I mean, in the context of it being a dare and all. I've always done things voluntarily. Still, I know it shouldn't be this difficult..." She looked perplexed.

"Is it _that_ hard?"

"Well...it's been...let's say, wearisome....and..." Sakura paused. "Oh, what the hell, _yes_, Tomoyo, it's _hard!_ Yesterday—_three_ days since I started this whole charade—he told me _eight times _to buzz off! How do you like that? There's no improvement at all!"

"What'd you do to make him hate you so much, Sakura?"

"Please, Tomoyo, I can't even remember when we started this stupid dispute. As far as I know, he was and is just being downright unreasonable. Not to mention stubborn and rude and foolish and difficult…" She pouted at Tomoyo. "It's horrible, isn't it?"

Tomoyo shrugged. "It kills me."

Her companion laughed, and it was not a mean laugh either. It was one of those nice-to-hear, bell-like laughs that can only be heard coming from Sakura from time to time.

"Why are you laughing all of a sudden?" Tomoyo asked.

Sakura shrugged, the smile broad and real on her face. "Well, I don't know!" she said. "Because you made it sound like it's so petty! I don't know. This is all crazy, isn't it? No, I'm crazy!"

Tomoyo smiled. "Yeah, I guess you are," she said.

Sakura laughed again. They arrived at the door of the classroom and she pushed it open. "Thanks, Tomoyo. I didn't know I could actually like being called crazy, but I do…because at least you're not lying. I know you're not lying. Haha. I _am_ kind of crazy, aren't I?"

Tomoyo motioned her hand to two empty seats.

"Yeah, you're honest, Tomoyo," Sakura continued. "You're real. You're not Hayli."

(CUT)

Syaoran nearly jumped as something slammed across him on his peaceful, isolated table. It sliced through his thoughts violently and jerked him out of his trance. Brutal. That's what it was.

He lifted his gaze, and then stopped as a familiar pair of bright green eyes met his. He groaned. "Not you again."

"Yes me again," Sakura retorted. "I'm not stopping until you and I get along." She pulled out the chair in front of him and sat down, giving him a brief, cocky smile before turning her attention to her shiny, deep red apple. It was the only thing on her tray besides a can of soda. She smiled at it and showed it to him, as if inviting him to take a bite, and when he did not, she shrugged. "Your call."

Minutes passed. Syaoran didn't talk. His chocolate-brown eyes unashamedly, blatantly monitored her every move, took in every inch of her. She didn't mind him. She just ate, dainty and dismissive—or at least, that's what she hoped she looked like. More minutes passed, and, against her will, Sakura eventually grew self-conscious. "Aren't you eating?" she asked.

"I'm done," he replied.

"Oh, okay," Sakura casually drew out—and stopped there. What else could she say?

Silence hung over them like a stifling, fat, fluffy cloud.

Suddenly, uncharacteristically, the chestnut-haired, chocolate-eyed young man broke it. "Look," he said, as softly and distinctly as usual, his scowl deepening as he watched her crunch out a dainty portion of her apple. "You've made my life miserable enough, aren't you happy yet?"

Sakura locked her eyes onto his. "Syaoran, I am not duping you, okay?" she said. "How many times have I said that already? You're too paranoid."

Syaoran was defiant. He pierced her emerald eyes with his ever-suspicious glare and did not pull away until what felt like a pretty long time later. "I've seen a lot of people lie, Sakura," he murmured, "but none has ever been as pathetic at it as you."

"I'm _not_ lying, Syaoran—"

"I rest my case."

Sakura felt suddenly, frustratingly, really perplexed. "Syaoran, hell—what do I have to do—crap—you are so _difficult! _Why do you hate me so much?!"

Syaoran shifted his eyes. "Is that even a question to ask?" he returned, quietly.

"If I'm asking it, yes, it is a question to ask! I've tailed you for days now, with reasons I think even _you_ would agree are noble, and here you are being nasty anyway, just like you've always been."

"You're accusing the wrong person, Kino," Syaoran responded. "My life would have been perfectly fine if you hadn't just butted in, _unwarranted_, and made it some sort of playground. I understand your all-the-rage crowd loves little games, but for your information, which you oh-so-privileged people probably—"

"Now, wait a minute—"

"—think you ought to know because you are, after all, the queens of your own universe and I suppose you feel you deserve to be familiar with bits of everything going on—"

"We are _not_ like that!"

"—not everyone finds your sources of entertainment entertaining. In fact—"

"Hold it, now."

"—I happen to think you're all just downright childish."

"I—" Sakura stopped as his words sank in, and suddenly, Syaoran found himself looking at a girl who was struggling to hide the offense that she had just taken from him. The inner battle swam in her emerald eyes. "Syaoran-kun, this is no joke and you are no playground—"

"Of course not." His sarcasm was a whiplash. "Kino. If you're running for student body president, buying my vote has a better chance of gaining it—"

"Oh, stop it! Stop it!" Sakura blurted out. "For heaven's sake, does there always _have_ to be a motive to _be_ with you, Li Syaoran?!"

Syaoran stared at her, a bolt of mixed pain and anger flashing in his auburn eyes that disappeared as quickly as it had come. He refused to reply, and after a few seconds, refused to look at her—or anyone.

Sakura sighed, watching him.

Minutes of stifling silence passed before he suddenly stood up and broke it. "Excuse me," he murmured. "If you don't mind, I'd rather be alone."

"Hey, I'm…I'm sorry…"

"Likewise. Thank you. Enjoy the company of your giggly friends." With a half-sarcastic grin and a motion of his hand to Hayli's table, he left, brown eyes hidden beneath tousled brown bangs.

"Well, fine! Good riddance!" she shouted to his back, just to spite him for making her feel rotten.

Sakura watched him leave and washed down the last of her apple with a swig of soda.

"Is everything okay?" Tomoyo asked, approaching the table and taking Syaoran's vacated seat.

Sakura raised her emerald eyes, and Tomoyo could see clearly that something had happened in that heated conversation between her and the amber-eyed loner that had melted a bit of the ice in Sakura's gaze no matter how she tried to regain it.

"What happened?" Tomoyo once again piped up, this time with an edge in her voice that demanded an answer.

"ARGH! Oh, that paranoid freak is just _so_ irritating!" Sakura finally grumbled in reply, still trying to recover her pride. "I am not a queen of my own universe! And who is _he_ to tell me I make playgrounds out of little people's lives!?"

"Was that what he told you that made you so…upset?" Tomoyo asked, gently.

"No, it's sitting across him and wasting time with that jerk that's making me so upset!"

"Oh. Okay then—"

"It's _not _okay!"

Tomoyo sighed and angled her head so she could look gently at Sakura's lowered face. "I'm sorry for being so inquisitive, Sakura, but you look so different from the girl I walked to class with this morning."

The emerald eyes blazed. "I am not! I'm perfectly normal!"

"Sakura…"

"Oh, shut up! It's none of your business!" Sakura shouted angrily, flashing a death glare and speeding out of the cafeteria.

Tomoyo sighed and leaned back on her chair. "Great…"

(CUT)

Li Syaoran crossed the nearly empty stretch of meadow at the back of the school towards his favorite apple tree. Swiftly and effortlessly, with grace that made it look so easy, he grabbed hold of a branch and hoisted himself up onto it.

The branch was thick and sturdy and had enough space for a person to lie back and relax without bothering about balance so long as he or she kept himself or herself more or less close to the middle.

He raised one knee up to his chin and folded his other leg below it. The silence was reassuring, the wind was comforting, the cover-up that the leaf-coated branches offered was delightfully soothing, and all of these blended together consoled and made him feel secure. He leaned from his knee and allowed his back to relax against the sturdy trunk, crossing his arms and piercing his gaze to nothing in particular, preparing himself to detangle the mound of spaghetti his ideas and trains of thoughts had made of his brain.

"Kinomoto Sakura…" He heard his own voice rent the air with her name.

As far back as he could remember, she had always hated him, and he had always hated her. There were no instances when he thought their untested friendship could be restored.

On the first day they met, he had crashed into her in the halls and made her fall splat right in front of haughty Hayli, and in his haste, he had forgotten to voice out in apologizing. He didn't think it was all that bad for her though. She still got into Hayli's group after all.

The second time their paths crossed was in the lunch line, when she did not yet, but just about ready to, hate him—what with snooty Hayli as her school guide going 'oh, Sakura, he is _such_ a careless little boy for running you over, ne?' as often as possible—he took the last chocolate frosted donut. Apparently, she had been having a craving for chocolate frosted donuts since morning. She hated him for beating her to the last one.

Oh, that was not the last straw.

There was a time he was rushing out of the classroom and Sakura was just about to enter so she sort of hit her forehead against the door and fell with a resounding thud on her behind. Syaoran bowed to show how sorry he was; only she was still picking up her books and didn't see. Another infamous scene was that instance when he was playing soccer during PE and accidentally kicked the ball right into her stomach. He chased after the ball and turned back to apologize but she had already stomped off to the bathroom with Hayli to wash off the dirt.

_The_ last straw was in the cafeteria one particularly hot day.

Syaoran had dunked in a cube or two of ice in a cup full of cold soda in one hand and was walking to his table, taking the shortest route by way of passing by Hayli and Sakura's table. Unfortunately, some blockhead chose the spot behind Sakura's seat to drop a glob of mashed potato.

Syaoran's reflexes were perfect. He grabbed Sakura's seat's backrest for balance before his butt suffered impact. Then there was a yell, and he realized, to save his ass, he had just used the hand holding the cup of cold soda. The liquid splashed and soaked Sakura's expensive Calvin Klein blouse and trickled down her back like a colored waterfall. The fact that the ice cubes were right in there between her skin and shirt did not make things any warmer.

The onlookers went into an uproar.

He stared at her—stunned, as people would say.

"_WHOA_, [censorship]_! Get these off me! Shit! Why won't you get out of my life, you filthy—oh, _[censorship]_!!! You—jerk—you—can't even—APOLOGIZE—damn it! What are you looking at!? Can you even talk!? You tongue-tied mute freak out to ruin me, you ruined by shirt! You did this on purpose—_[censorship]_!!!"_

As time passed, the students gradually quieted, and then the lunchroom silenced and all eyes turned towards him as Hayli stood up to defend her new best friend with a spiteful glare in his direction that screamed 'I hate you'. They all waited for his reaction—watched him in his awkward, smoldering silence and potato-caked unbranded shoes and pant hems. It didn't help that he looked _really_ stunned-stupid either.

Kaori, Ria, Haia, Chiharu, Naoko, and Hana stood up and out of their trance at Hayli's slight motion towards the doors. Then with last death glares, they stalked out of the lunchroom in one psychedelic bunch.

Sakura, since then, had made a point to humiliate him at least thrice a week—or every available moment that she could. Syaoran was a quick learner when it came to disputes though, and it didn't take long for his penitence and patience to thin out and go poof.

Once, she tripped him on purpose in the middle of math class while he was walking back to his seat from solving an equation on the board. She "accidentally" dumped her food tray on him one time (then giggled going back to her airhead friends thinking he wasn't looking anymore). At one point, she even walked up to him on a whim—Haia's, during a game of truth or dare—and slapped him clear across the face. He remembered gripping his notebook as hard as he could to detour his rage, and they slammed shoulder to shoulder when he moved past her, eyes resolutely indifferent.

Sakura and Syaoran never spoke to each other again—well, except to spite and humiliate each other—and the stifling, crackling tension between them never faltered since.

"So why is she being so sweet and sugary now?" he murmured, brown eyes clouded to show he was in deep thought.

Closing his eyes and leaning back, he sighed and accepted that for the first time in his life, his apple tree failed to make the traffic of his trains of thoughts even just a little bit better. Minutes passed and all he was able to accomplish was breathing uncountable sighs of exasperation.

Why. It thudded in his head, making a vein at his temple throb. Why. Why. Why.

With a last groan, he hopped off his tree with just as much grace and swiftness as when he came up, straightening his collar and smoothing the unbranded cotton of his shirt when he got down. He shook his auburn head and strode back towards the campus building.

(CUT)

TBC


	4. Syaoran's Demure Angel

IV - Syaoran's Demure Angel

"So is everything going okay, Sakura?" Hayli asked with a secret little snicker. She closed her locker with a dainty bang.

Sakura met the large hazel eyes and faked a smile. "Gosh, Hayli, everything's so lame and blue and down, down, down, I can puke. He's starting to like me so much it makes me sick and sad," she lied, with rather convincing smugness.

Hayli smiled and drawled out a laugh. "Oh, that's cute, Sakura," she said, swaying her hips as she sashayed past. Sakura made a face at her back and stalked away in the opposite direction.

Chiharu caught up with her halfway down the hall, arm looped flirtatiously through Yamazaki's. "Hey, Sakura, what's up? Where's _your_ Winnie the Pooh?" she asked, cocking her head and blinking her eyes rapidly.

"My wee little what!?"

"Your sweetie-pie, Syaoran…" Chiharu clarified, smiling a dopey smile. Apparently, she found her little joke witty. Sakura didn't find it funny. Not in the least.

The honey-haired girl made a face at her giggling friend and then turned to look at Yamazaki. "I honestly don't see what you see in her, Yamazaki-kun," she sad. "And I don't intend to find out anytime soon either." And, with a last stare-down, she brushed past them.

Another few feet and about twenty bodies to avoid, she crashed into dark-haired Hana. "Hey, Saku! What's up? Where's—"

"Don't you dare ask me about Syaoran!" Sakura screamed at her, cutting off the question. "I've had enough of you guys bugging me about him!"

Hana blinked at her. "What is _up_ with you? I was gonna ask if you have seen Tomoyo," she said.

"No, I haven't!" Sakura rolled her eyes in total exasperation and threw her hands in the air. "Uh!!!" She walked off.

Hana shrugged.

Sakura bulleted off down the stairs, mind clouded with a million thoughts she couldn't really understand. Most students who recognized her as one of the _in_ kids made way so it was quite easy for her to walk as fast as she wanted. In her haste, somebody's loose sleeve lashed across her face and a muscled arm brushed her shoulder. She went ahead anyway but quickened her pace even more in irritation—then a voice from behind called her name and made her halt in her tracks, very, very much annoyed.

_What now!?_

"Hey, whirlwind," a soft voice said, a pair of hands grabbing at her shoulders with a tenderness she couldn't help but like. She halted, and turned, rather dolefully. She raised her eyes to meet Eriol Hiiragizawa's warm midnight blue gaze. "Are you okay, Kino?" he asked.

"No, but who cares anymore?" Sakura replied, soberly, practically snapping.

Eriol smiled. "Would I be asking if I didn't?"

Sakura sniffed. "You're free to shove the answer to that down your throat."

"You're being very rude." Eriol's smile softened.

Sakura sighed. "I'm sorry, Eriol-kun. I really didn't mean to take it out on you," she murmured.

"You're in a _really_ bad mood, aren't you?"

"Really, _really_ bad." Sakura sighed and sagged. "The girls are kind of giving me a hard time."

Eriol smiled wider and placed an arm around her then began steering her through the crowd. "Oh, yes. I heard about your little mission from Nachika. How's it going?"

"Not too good, honestly…" Sakura sighed, allowing Eriol to lead.

"Why?"

"He's difficult and stubborn and completely immune to any emotion, except anger. He's an ice block. Honestly, Eriol, I don't get it! I know _I'm _trying. I mean, I'm being sweet enough, right?"

"You tell me."

Sakura harrumphed. "He just likes being nasty, that's all, I can tell. I mean, I say so many _nice _things but he never gives me the light of day! Never for more than a second anyway, which isn't really worth it. Tell me, Eriol, you're a boy! You should know! Why's he being so _difficult_?"

"Actually, I'm not surprised that he is all those things," Eriol replied, his smile as mysterious, captivating, and alluring as ever, never wavering a millimeter.

She didn't waste time to notice or be captivated and allured. She was offended. "What!" she gasped. She faced her companion and narrowed her eyes, disbelievingly. "You don't believe I can do it either?"

He shook his head and gently guided her to round a busy corner. "I don't have opinions when it comes to that, Kino. I'm just saying it's never easy to make most people believe the unbelievable."

"If your advice comes in the form of a riddle, I'll stamp on your foot."

Eriol laughed and gently rubbed her shoulder to calm her. "Easy, easy. Hey, look. You can't expect him to love you as easy as that. Wow, Kino, I mean, you're just playing with feelings here. You have always hated him. He has always hated you. And suddenly you pop up one day and start to cling to him like a leech? I'll bet you anything he has an inkling that you're about to ruin his life—and you and I both know that it _will_ happen. Kino, a person's pride can't be that easy to battle."

Sakura made a face at him. "That's not something I'd categorize as a friendly advice, and honestly! I had expected you'd be something better than Hayli."

"What, as a friend?"

"As _my_ friend and as a person."

Eriol shook his head slightly and smiled, leaving Sakura to find that his chuckle was rather soothing, although it was irritating too at the same time. "You need a few attitude adjustments," he said, and smoothly disappeared behind a door that they were passing that led the way to his next class.

Sakura sighed and walked on by herself, careful to hold her head high and flaunt her high stature although her spirits were low. She was starting to enjoy her little parade when Syaoran Li picked that moment to enter from wherever he had come from.

(CUT)

The sight of Sakura's arrogance made Syaoran blanch in disgust and turn his head away. The word still throbbed in his temples: why, why, why.

_Please. Please, whichever god is listening, please don't make her come closer. I beg you—_

"Syaoran! Syaoran!"

Syaoran groaned. _Thank you, deities, nymphs, myths, ancestors. Thank you very much._

"What do you want?" he asked, almost exhaustedly. "Did you save the last of your soda to dump on me?"

"Eh? What?" She met his eyes, confused.

All of a sudden, it felt weird. He looked tired. She could _see_ him. The eye contact held. His cold brown eyes, hinted with struggle although she did not know how she could tell, made all of Eriol's words flash inside her head again.

_Playing with feelings. Battling with pride. _

"I…" she started, rather distractedly.

_Believe the unbelievable._

"We have class…uh…"

_Riddles. That guy has way too many riddles…!_

Syaoran waited, growing expectant.

_Who is he to say I need attitude adjustments anyway! If there's anyone who needs adjustments, it's him! He should learn how to talk straight. Well, whatever, I—_

Suddenly, Syaoran's raised eyebrow came into focus in her vision again, and she realized that she had been zoning off. She hurriedly scrambled for her composure. "Uh....that is, I mean…let's go to class, shall we? I'd like to get there now…and you, too. We both need to get there. I mean, let's just…go."

Syaoran's eyes narrowed. "You're stammering," he observed, the unfathomable look in his eyes vague.

"Uh. Sorry?"

"You don't stammer."

Suddenly, Sakura had a strange feeling that there was something there that she could take to her advantage. She waited.

Syaoran looked strangely curious. His expression had only the slightest hint of suspicion. "You're being civil…and honest…?" His voice bordered between asking and stating. Small wonder. He found her stammers quite out of the ordinary. Experienced liars never stuttered, to the extent of their capabilities. It was unnatural for Sakura Kinomoto to stutter.

"Well…what did you think?" Sakura replied, keeping cool though inwardly rejoicing, careful to control her tone and keep it as naturally light as possible. Well, _thinking_ of that dumb advice sure helped.

_Thank you, Eriol!_

A twinge of the coldest of suspicions once again sparked in Syaoran's steady gaze as he studied her straight face, and then he turned his head away.

"I hoped…I mean…I thought we weren't having the next class together," he said. He glanced down at his watch. Sakura wondered how he could see or read the time through the thick pieces of brown hair that blocked his vision. Anyway, he obviously could since he muttered a second later, "We're almost late," and left her at that.

Sakura scowled but could help being proud. "That was a lot better than yesterday, wasn't it?" she muttered, and then went to follow him, minimizing her syrupy wheedling and gritted smiles.

It sure worked better than sugar.

(CUT)

Syaoran couldn't concentrate on Math, not that he didn't already know what the lesson was. He had known it since fifth grade due to self-tutoring and advance studying: two of the many unusual hobbies he practiced. It was fun for him anyway.

He stole a glance at his seatmate. The chair beside him was usually empty. To his other side was the wall. See, some students preferred to skip Math class. A circle or two of friends fancied to sit at the back and gossip softly. A couple of his classmates were made to sit at the very front because they were too rowdy and the teacher needed to keep an eye on them. Of course, the high-class crowd sat far, far away from him.

So he was, most of the time, alone.

But today was different. Sakura was _quietly_ sitting beside him and actually _looking_ at the teacher instead of him, a change that struck him as seriously abnormal. He didn't know if she was actually listening, but she was acting fairly better than she did the past four days. It was weird, but it was a welcome change.

After answering the seventeenth example equation with a flourish, the teacher faced his students and smiled. "Okay, now get your pens and papers and let's have a little check-up test!" he said, cheerily, clapping his hands twice. He gave them all a tiny note of luck and began to list down what seemed to be a couple of endless equations.

The students promptly began to groan and whine to themselves and make faces at the sensei's back. He seemed to enjoy the commotion, because he said, "Your enthusiasm is inspiring, class. Tell you what: I'll give you ten items instead of five, so you'll all have a grand time. How about that?"

Everyone hushed.

"Can you believe him!?" Sakura whined after huffing, disbelievingly. "He talks as if _anyone_ understood a quarter of what he was rambling! I mean, hell, I'm no math magician! I can't even multiply x-squared-times-x-cube 'coz he didn't _explain_ it well! He is such a pain! What am I paying for in this cursed school? The teachers aren't worth a cent of it!"

"Pardon?" Syaoran said, casting a raised eyebrow in her direction. So much for assuming that she had been _listening _to the teacher. What did she say about cubes and squares!?

Sakura snapped her mouth closed and flashed a huge smile at him. His eyes narrowed. She quickly cleared her throat, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and lowered her eyes. "I mean, sorry," she muttered.

There was a pause. "You don't know how to multiply x-squared by x-cube?" he asked.

Sakura resisted the urge to glare at him. He had some nerve! "Yes, I can!" she said, haughtily. If she wasn't sorely mistaken, x-squared by x-cube was x-cube. Hinata-sensei said something like that one time or another: follow the bigger number. "X-cube!"

His eyebrow shot up again, and she resisted a strong urge to strangle him. "What?" she snapped. "Hinata said to follow the bigger number."

"Because x-squared by x-cube is x to the power of five and what you said that Hinata-sensei said was applicable in addition and subtraction of integers. It's 'follow _the sign_ of the bigger number'," Syaoran replied, and to Sakura's irritation and at the same time relief, he sounded rather dismissive—irritated, because he sounded as if he just shrugged off her lack of math skill as though he expected it, and relieved, because she was happy he didn't rub it in.

"You may begin," the sensei announced, and Sakura snapped up with a start.

Usually, she skipped Math classes or just jammed with Kaori and Naoko at the back, but today she was with Syaoran, and she knew it was going to be hell. She had to be his demure little angel to save her reputation, to go back to her fun-filled life, and to skip annoying math quizzes.

She rolled her eyes at number one and decided to answer that later. Latching on to number two, she rolled her eyes again, and decided to save that for later too. Same with number three, and, yes, number four. "I'm never gonna get anything done this way…" she murmured, quite depressed.

She flicked her emerald eyes over to Syaoran and found he was effortlessly scribbling neat little numbers and exponents on his paper, apparently finding the quiz not in the least difficult. Accidentally, her eyes passed over his number one, and they widened slightly. There it was: 2X – 17.

Well, who would have thought a binomial would solve that looong equation?

Slightly guiltily, but reasoning with herself that she was just trying earn good grades and be happy occasionally (and anyway, time was running out, and a good mark would earn her a good few points with Syaoran), she jotted it down: 2X – 17.

Syaoran felt someone watching him, and he shifted his eyes to look at his whiny seatmate and check what exactly she was doing. Under the convenience of his messed up bangs, he saw her eyes dart across his paper and then, seconds later, as he suspected, his answer was on her own work, written in her writing in purple ink.

He sighed. Perfect.

Sakura glanced at her nearly empty paper and stared at the second equation on the board. It blurred at its own profoundness, and she uttered another sigh. Maybe another look at Syaoran's paper would help her understand things…

(CUT)

"Where's your next class?" Sakura asked, contentedly, walking out of the classroom after handing in her very neatly copied paper.

"You're not in it," Syaoran replied.

Sakura flared. Boy was she glad he didn't like her arm-clinging. She hated it much more than he did. "Okay, good…I mean, okay!" she said, as cheerily as she could.

Syaoran graced her with a brief glance.

"Say, Syaoran, was 2X – 17 the answer to number one?" she asked, sweetly.

"Yes," he replied, and to Sakura's dismay, he didn't look in the least surprised or impressed.

"I got it right!" she said, just to produce a reaction from him.

"Yay," he muttered. And he went off. Then, several steps away, he paused and shifted his head slightly to indicate that he was talking to her. "Happy cheating wherever you're going, Kino," he said. Oh, he was indifference incarnate.

Sakura's eyes widened. _What!? _"Just what do you mean!?" she cried. But she could feel the answer to her question right from where she was. A wave of guilt suddenly washed over her, and then another, and another, as she watched him depart. It was an odd feeling for her, cold and tight around the chest. Unfamiliar. Uncomfortable. For a moment, she almost considered going back into the classroom, taking back her paper, and confessing…

_Hold it!_

What was she doing letting herself be influenced by _Syaoran!?_ Letting _Syaoran_ make her feel guilty!? That wasn't right. That was even less right than cheating! _Syaoran_ did not have the license to make her feel guilty!

Putting thoughts of guilt aside, Sakura contorted her face in forced fury and stuck out her chin and tongue at his back.

_What a dork!_ She was glad he wasn't in her next subject. She would die if people noticed she sat beside him a lot and began to think she had feelings for him. What a horrible thought.

_Yeah, the only problem is that I want it to be a totally atrocious thought, not just a horrible one._

Riskily entertaining the gnawing truth that she _had_ cheated and that Syaoran _was_ entitled to make her feel guilty, Sakura rolled her eyes in half-hearted defeat. If only he had not found out, she would have been completely free to hate him.

She shook her head.

_Oh, if only…_

(CUT)

TBC


	5. The Second Week

V - The Second Week

Monday. Second week of Sakura's charade.

He could feel her—her stilettos clacking on the floor as she danced toward him, stopping right behind his open locker door when she leaned would-be coolly against the next cubbyhole, apparently vying for a dramatic 'hey, stranger', or something cheesy like that. Well, he wasn't in the mood. He was never in the mood.

Syaoran slammed his locker door shut after a deeply antagonized sigh.

"Well, hello to you too," Sakura greeted, dryly, sensing his familiar irritation. She smirked to herself, comparing her own situation with his. _You're not the only one suffering…_

Syaoran gritted his teeth and stole a glance at her exasperatingly placid face.

What was her _real _skin color anyway? Maybe she _was _white, but with all that powder on, she looked more _sallow_ than white. That was quite a difference. He was pretty sure her eyelids weren't as purple as _that_ too. Her lips—well, he'd rather not _think_ about them. They were bloody crimson. Oh yes, she scared him sometimes. A little more contrast and she would be perfectly cast as a vampire. The natural emerald and honey parts of her features looked extremely out of place. Strangely enough, Syaoran felt that she would have looked prettier—no point denying that she _was_ pretty at some angles—if she didn't wear so much foundation.

Really. Objectively speaking.

"Are you headed to class?" Sakura asked, cutting off his deftly concealed train of thought, resisting the urge to stare him up and down. He looked…well…terrible.

"Yeah, I am, but you already know that," he grumbled back, starting off at a pace that always forced her to jog.

She made a face. Oh, what she wouldn't give to be with Tomoyo and the others at the sorting table!

"Hey, wait up!" she shouted, straining for speed in her high, narrow heels. Syaoran was moving forward meter after meter after meter and she was rapidly dropping behind.

Syaoran tightened his grip on his temper and slowed down—if just a little bit.

Sakura's face distorted at his heedlessness, but she tried her best to remain unaffected. _Don't lose your head…_don't_ lose your head…stay cool…he's not worth it…he's not worth it…not worth it…notworthitnotworthitnotworthitnotworthit—oh, he's so annoying!_

Syaoran noticed her efforts. Sagging slightly, not even noticing that he was already stopping to wait for her and realizing that he was more being rude at a girl who wanted to get to class than addressing an enemy who had something to hide, he rolled his eyes and grumbled, "I'm sorry."

Sakura blinked at him as she finally caught up. "What?" she said.

Syaoran glared at her, not wanting to repeat the word. "You should have listened," he said, almost accusatorily.

"And you should have raised your voice a little, if what you said was addressed to me," she shot back, just as strongly, unable to resist a little trickle of anger. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I am not telepathic."

They walked to the classroom in silence.

_T-clack, t-clack, t-clack. _He listened to the steady beat of her stilettos, not ignoring the incessant tug at his mind that urged him to say something but denying the teeny voice the actual deed. He didn't know what to say—wouldn't know. She would probably just snort anyway, so what was the point?

Still it kept on tugging.

_Just say something..._

_What?_

_Just _something_...anything!_

_Something like "butterflies are pretty"?_

_Stop being so sarcastic._

_Shut up, you're me too._

_JUST SAY SOMETHING!_

_Why should I?? _She_ chose to hang out with _me!_ And what for!? It's just Sakura!_

And there was no comeback. It just ended—that internal conversation.

And then it came alive again!

Yes, repetitive as that. It wasn't until his fourth try to urge a reason out of his own mind that he gave up to the fact that it would never come. It just trailed off and repeated…trailed off and repeated… He was getting more and more uncomfortable.

_What_ was his stupid mind trying to make him _digest???_

Before the debate officially ended and before he could make a decision, however, they reached the classroom. Syaoran stared at the doorway for a few moments, his eyes, when you looked hard enough, bearing hints of perplexity.

"Umm…would you mind getting in?" Sakura asked, starting to fidget. What was he doing, gaping like an idiot at the stupid door?

Syaoran nodded silently, steeled himself, and slid the entrance open. "I said I was sorry for not waiting for you," he murmured, in fast but distinct syllables, before he entered and left her in the hall. He smacked himself internally. _Way to go, Syaoran—that was _really_ witty._

Sakura stared after him, and then allowed her lips to break into a smile, not knowing how stupid he thought he sounded.

"Kinda late, aren't you?" she quipped, when she slid her slender body into an empty chair beside his. She noted his stiffening, and with satisfaction, catching the little hints about him that said he had expected she would sit beside him even though he had prayed she wouldn't.

_He's getting used to me rather quickly, isn't he now? Ah…my paradise is just a few more minutes ahead…_

"Mind removing your elbow from my desk?" a voice mumbled beside her.

She jerked from her trance and met Syaoran's vaguely annoyed amber eyes. She smiled rather awkwardly, slipped her elbow off his writing table, and shrugged to show that her sheepishness was true. "Sorry. Here. It's all yours," she said.

"Yeah," he mumbled.

She stole a few glances at him, sagging slightly.

_On second thought, maybe it's a bit more than just a few minutes away…_

(CUT)

Tuesday. A day when their first-period classes differed.

"Sakura-chan!" Tomoyo cried, waving her hand in the air when she spotted the honey-haired beauty among the crowd of high school students. "Sakura! Sakura-chan!"

Sakura heard her name and raised her head to meet her caller. "Tomoyo-chan!" she greeted back, weaving through the mass of oblivious bodies to get to her friend. They had the next period together, and they always had fun swapping notes in the middle of class. Of course, Tomoyo was perfectly capable of passing tests even without concentrating so much, but Sakura was more used to cramming than stock knowledge.

"How's Syaoran?" was the first thing that popped out of Tomoyo's mouth when they managed to grab at each other's hands.

Sakura didn't know whether to smile or scowl at the nauseatingly repetitive question, and so she did neither. She adopted a thoughtful face. "Well, he's not as whiny as last Monday, that's for sure. We're starting to talk a little, and I've found a few weak points," she reported.

Tomoyo wriggled her eyebrows. "Ooh, you talk like this is some kind of new military tactic," she teased.

Sakura giggled back. "It's close enough to one," she replied, and when Tomoyo laughed, she said, "No, really! It's true, Tomoyo-chan! I _do_ have a few aces up here." She tapped at her shirt sleeve.

Tomoyo giggled some more, and so Sakura plunged ahead, disliking the thought that Tomoyo wasn't really taking her seriously. "Well, for one thing," she said, a little too haughtily, hurrying to achieve credibility, "I should never, _ever _ smile or say anything within range to fake. He has some kind of truth radar planted inside him. He suddenly knows you're being plastic and boom! You're nonexistent. And two—you can never be as sweet as you want—"

"I beg to disagree. No normal guy can't stand a sweet girl," a voice suddenly cut in. "It's virtually impossible."

Both girls' heads turned to the direction of the speaker.

"Hiiragizawa-kun!" Tomoyo gasped, softly. She smiled, and her pale cheeks colored a little. "Hello."

"Daidouji-san," he greeted back, tipping his head a little. "Kino."

"Hey, Eriol-kun," Sakura breezily answered. "What was that you were saying?"

Eriol eased back into his interrupted speech like there hadn't been a pause. "Guys are suckers for sweet girls," he testified. "Even barbaRians from long ago would have swayed when the right girl dropped by and spared them a glance." He smiled, his impossibly mysterious air growing even more alluring.

"Well, Syaoran's not normal," Sakura chomped.

"Don't be mean, Kino, he is," Eriol chided, gently. Tomoyo, beside him, nodded in assent. "You just weren't being _sweet._" Sakura's eyes hardened slightly, but Eriol didn't stop talking. "You were _playing_. Correct me if I'm wrong, but being—what's the word?—_sugary_ is different from being truly sweet."

Tomoyo nodded again, and flushed when Eriol's eyes met hers. She cast a smile at Sakura to evade him. "See, Sakura-chan?" she said.

Sakura scowled but didn't press on the subject. "All right—for the two of you, I'll consider that," she said.

Eriol grinned and threw his arms around both of them and began to steer them towards class, Sakura giggling and Tomoyo quietly feeling her defenses dissolve. He was one guy she wasn't hesitant at all to call irresistible.

(CUT)

Wednesday. A day that Sakura decided should bring her a step closer to Syaoran.

Setting: dismissal, homeward bound.

Sakura had been thinking of Eriol and Tomoyo's advice, even as she tried with all her self control to dodge it. By the time she had given up to thinking about it, she knew they were right. Of course, that didn't make her any happier.

She _was_ not being sweet, and she knew that as much as anybody else did. Even Syaoran knew that, dorky as he may be. His brain wasn't slow. It exasperated her! It discouraged her! It made her feel like her little mental list of Syaoran's weak spots was totally pointless and ineffectual.

She needed something fresh, a hint that would tell her she _was_ inching to the climax day after day after day, a whiff of _something_ that would tell her that her reputation and status would be safe—something, anything that would comfort her that she was succeeding. And she needed it ASAP.

She decided to speak. "Tell me. Do I annoy you?" she frankly grumbled to the tall, lanky lad walking next to her, finding no other words with which to deliver that exact thought accurately.

Syaoran's eyes shifted rapidly toward her at the question. What? Why was she asking him that? Wasn't it obvious enough?

Her eyes met his, and the question was still there, mixing in with sparks of hope, tension, and pride that almost overlapped everything else. She actually needed an answer. How strange.

"Yeah, sometimes," he said, shrugging. Duh.

"I see." Her face distorted a little, but the expression that resulted from the shifting of her features was something he didn't know how to interpret.

Suddenly, she sighed, an almost inaudible sigh that ran long and heavy, and Syaoran felt a weird twinge. Even if the answer was obvious, had he said it too bluntly?

_Well, I was just being _honest_. She asked and I answered, as _honestly _as I know how. That's a favor to most people._

He stole another glance at her face. Crap, but she actually did look like a human with feelings—dejected ones. Syaoran wanted to curse his conscience.

_I am a gentleman, a gentleman, a gentleman—but why should I _lie_ just to _be_ one? No. No, I won't lie for you. That was the plain and simple truth and you didn't even need to ask anyway. How else_ _did you expect me to answer, damn it?_

_Fine! _You_ may be a jerk, but _I'm_ not!_

"Sometimes," he repeated, unable to say, _only sometimes_. That was too much of a lie already.

Sakura shook his head at him, catching the little hints in his semi-concealed discomfort that attempted to soften his reply. "You annoy me too sometimes," she said, softly. "So we're even."

Syaoran didn't expect anything less.

"Sometimes," she added, after a while.

Syaoran spared her a glance, and, having lied to each other for the sake of civility, they didn't speak until they had to part ways.

"See ya."

"See ya."

They strolled off in opposite directions, both thinking vaguely that there might actually be a chance of a heart's existence inside the other. Never mind the confusion on why they were thinking about that at all.

(CUT)

Thursday. Another Syaoran day.

"Hey!" Sakura ran up in jaunty steps to Syaoran's locker, pigtails bouncing with trails of pale green ribbons. She flashed him a sunny smile that he still wouldn't return.

"Hey," he muttered.

She stared. "You said 'hey' back!" The words stumbled out of her mouth.

Syaoran slammed his locker door shut with a bang; Sakura jumped. He flicked a glance at her then turned and headed for his first subject. Strangely enough, Sakura noticed with a kind of astonishment that he didn't hurry away from her the way he used to. For a moment, she wondered when he had finally accepted that she was in the same class as he was, and that she would catch up to walk with him to attend it no matter how fast he went.

She grinned to herself, adding the detail to her _What Syaoran Wants_ mental notebook. She only had two so far: 1) no saccharine and 2) genuine smiles were okay.

She was in very good spirits today. Touya, her big brother, was free from soccer practice, part-time jobs, projects, and Nakuru after school and, thus, would be able to go straight home. Not that he wasn't always annoying and mocking her, but she learned to love how he tortured her to disguise affection. Her father was also arriving early from the college classes he headed to cook them a special family dinner, while Sakura was free from another trip to the mall with Hayli. The brown-eyed doll had decided to have her nails painted and her legs waxed in some spa that afternoon. The only thing that dampened her spirits was another day with Syaoran, but then, with that day's promising schedule, she thought she could put up with just about anything.

At any rate, the knowledge that the major thing that she had to avoid to keep from making Syaoran tick was sugar over-dosage made things a lot more tolerable. She was getting good at the modesty thing, and that made a lot of difference. Of course, his clothes still didn't stand a chance at meeting her standards, but she was feeling pretty valiant about it today.

"What are you smiling there for?" Syaoran asked, successful in keeping the curiosity from his voice.

"Nothing that _you'd_ be interested in."

"I asked."

Sakura refused to glare. "Well," she said. "We're having a family dinner." She beamed. "Oniichan's coming home early, and Otouusan will cook us dinner. He's good at that, you know—cooking."

Syaoran looked like he couldn't care less, but something in him stirred in a most disturbingly subtle way at her childlike pleasure—just very subtly, and anyway, he still hadn't forgiven the fact that she cheated last Friday; that actuality easily recovered some ice into his heart, to his satisfaction.

"You're a close-knit family," he said. The statement of the obvious marked his indifference.

"Yeah." She paused. "What about _your_ family?"

Syaoran noted her hesitation in pursuing the conversation, but he did not feel like dissecting it. It was a harmless enough question. "I have my mom and four sisters," he answered. "They're in Hong Kong."

"Oh. You must miss them."

He felt a flash of irritation at the simplicity of her presumption, yet—and he didn't know what on earth made him say them—he answered, "Sometimes. I guess." He did not know how true it was, and he shut out the part of him that recognized he had just betrayed one of the many secrets he had kept to himself for so long.

"I can imagine how you must feel," Sakura said, seeming to take it all as a matter of course. "My mother died a long time ago. Sometimes it feels like I'm missing out on a huge chunk of having a _real _family. I mean, Oniichan and Otousan are wonderful, but…a mother's love…" she trailed off with a flush. How sentimental.

But Syaoran just grumbled, "Like _I've _ever had a father."

"What did you say?"

Syaoran shook his head. "Forget it," he said.

"No, please, I'm listening," Sakura pressed.

Syaoran hesitated for just a split second before deciding to end the conversation with one last line, spoken as dully as he knew how—just to _end_ it: "I've never had a father. That's all."

He opened the classroom door that was already in front of them and went in first, as if to make up for his sudden openness. He didn't talk to her for the entire period either, except for a few and far between monosyllables that barely even came close to nasty.

Sakura's spirits rose even more.

What Syaoran Wants # 3:

Only anything genuine, anything at all that was _real, _would make him look at you as a human being.

_Hm. I'm getting good at this…_

(CUT)

TBC


	6. Apologies

VI - Apologies (Jumping to Conclusions)

"Syaoran-sama, you have a phone call," a rich, elderly voice called from behind Syaoran's bedroom, following a few short knocks. After a few seconds, three echoing thuds once again bounced off the walls.

Syaoran raised his head from his pillow to look at the door.

He had been awake for some time now, but, having found no reason to wake before time on a Saturday morning, he drowned away the early hours and the present to relive the past two weeks with Sakura, eyes blankly piercing his bedroom ceiling.

Wei's knocks brought him reeling back.

"Who is it?" he called, raising his torso off the bed. Few people called him. He expected it was his mother or perhaps one of his four sisters—maybe Fuutie or Sheifa, calling to ask if he'd accidentally brought some lost property of theirs, out of boredom, or more often than not, to check on his love life—like he had one.

You can just imagine what kind of curiosity suddenly piqued at him when Wei replied, "She claims she is a friend, Syaoran-sama."

Syaoran padded over to the door and wrenched it open. "Does she have a name?"

"Perhaps, if you ask her," Wei responded before retreating to the kitchen. Syaoran could smell the delicious tang of blueberry pancakes wafting from within. He would have to put off stuffing himself.

He walked to the none-too-spacious living room, picked up the phone, and flopped onto a chair. "Yeah?" he grumbled into the mouthpiece. It sounded more like a goodbye than a greeting.

"Uh, hi, am I, um, bothering you?" a suspiciously familiar voice replied and floated through the line.

"Who's this?"

"It's Sakura."

Syaoran dropped the phone. WHAT!?

"Hello? Hello? Are you there? Oh, come on! Tomoyo, this is stupid! He's not even answering! He might what? Oh! Sorry, that's right. Hello? Hello! Hey! LI SYAORAN! Tomoyo-chan, I'm not doing this anymore—what? He won't—fine! Hello??"

Hearing the distant crackles, Syaoran recovered and grabbed at the handset that was hanging on its cord, just in time to hear a last, very agitated, "Hello!?"

"Yeah, I'm here," he said, internally amazed that his voice was—joy of joys—blissfully impassive.

"I thought you'd hung up on me," Sakura said. Syaoran could hear a high-pitched noise in the background that he figured was the giggling of Sakura's girl bud, Timmy-what's-her-name—the new girl—Hayli's newest plaything.

Deciding to ignore the discomforting peals of not-too-deftly concealed laughter, Syaoran evenly muttered back, "No, I didn't."

"Well—hey, ssh! Uh, hi, you still there? Sorry about that…"

"It's fine. What did your giggly friend back there tell you to tell me?"

"Oh, no, Tomoyo didn't put me up to this. I mean, she has nothing to do with—well…anyway, wanna meet someplace today?"

"No." His answer was immediate. The image in his mind's eye of Sakura and her friends making a laughingstock out of him in public was a little much.

He didn't know if the edge in her voice was disappointment or relief, but she replied, "Oh, cool! I mean, that's cool with me if you have other plans…"

"I'll make some."

"Where'll those be?" (She didn't sound insulted.)

"I dunno yet."

"Okay then. See you Monday?"

"Maybe. Bye."

"Yeah. Ciao, Syao."

Syaoran blanched at the nickname and put down the phone. Seriously. Why the hell did she call? He felt strange. He felt drained. The adrenaline was rushing; his muscles were tense. But he wasn't angry. Hell, but he wasn't angry! Why wasn't he angry? He glanced at the phone and shuddered. He felt weirdly like he had just survived something potentially fatal.

(CUT)

3:00PM.

Syaoran stepped out of the apartment building, fresh out of the shower and dressed in a round-necked white shirt and an ill-fitting pair of khaki shorts, sporty sandals strapped around both feet. His messy hair was damp, and a trickle of water that he had missed drying still ran down a side of his face.

"Hey!" a voice called from the street to his left, cutting through his tranquility. "Li-kun!"

His eyes narrowed as they met a wide pair of amethyst pools—sincere eyes fringed with thick lashes on a creamy complexion, a fall of long, flowing dark tresses straying around the cheeks. It was the new girl—_Tamiya?_ She skated up to him in a pleated skirt and a sleeveless pastel-colored blouse. In one hand, she carried a camera. The other she used to wave at him. He reluctantly nodded back.

"Aren't you supposed to be with Kino?" he asked, when she slid to a stop in front of him.

"I am. We're skating around the neighborhood together," Toyoma replied, shielding her eyes from the sun as she peered down the street from where she came from. "She should be coming up any minute now. She sure is taking long though."

Syaoran couldn't care less. "We've never been introduced," he said.

"We haven't?" Her thick-lashed eyes blinked twice, disbelievingly.

Syaoran shook his head no.

"Oh! Oh, that's right! I just saw you in the lunchroom and—well, in any case, I'm Daidouji Tomoyo!" She held out her hand.

_So that's it—Tomoyo._ The handshake was barely a touch. "You hang out with Hayli, don't you?" he asked, when he noticed that she wouldn't leave or even move away.

"Hayli? No," Tomoyo replied, automatically, letting her hand fall to her side. Her smile didn't waver.

Syaoran found that unnerving. "What do you mean? I see you with their group."

"No, you see their group with me," Tomoyo answered, making the response sound like a request to change the topic. She raised her camera to her eye and focused the lens on his face. Syaoran could see that the red record light was blinking.

He shook his head and covered the lens with his hand. "Go pick on somebody else," he grumbled.

"Hey…!"

Syaoran ignored the note of accusation and left her to watch him walk away. He wanted to leave before the rest of her clique caught up—or whoever she considered them to be. The idea of it was sickening. All those girls, skating and giggling and videotaping each other, their polished hands poised just so for balance, all of them careful not to break a nail, squealing at the idea of falling—

"Tomoyo! Wait up! Eh? What—hoeeeeee!!!!"

There was a wild flash of light brown hair and a zoom in on strangely and suddenly vulnerable emerald eyes and Syaoran found himself sprawled agonizingly across the pavement, a girl's rollerblade-clad leg landing with searing pain on his stomach. For a moment, he couldn't breathe. The impact made him want to collapse, but it wasn't enough. It no more than brought him to a very nauseating point wherein he could only be barely awake.

"What is _wrong_ with you!?" a girl's familiar shriek rent the air.

He moved his head to look at the face of the voice's owner, and sure as life, he found it was Sakura. Her eyes widened, and she quickly moved her legs and clambered to a standing position. Syaoran was never more thankful to her for doing it. Resisting pained yelps, he helped himself up and clutched none too discreetly at his stomach, nevertheless managing a nearly impassive stare.

"Y—you again," he wheezed, meeting her wide and shocked stare.

Tomoyo had skated over and, after checking on Sakura, continued to film the whole thing.

"And it's _you_ again," Sakura returned. "What are you doing in this part of town?"

"I happen to _live_ in 'this part of town'," Syaoran replied, testily.

"You should look where you're going," she said. "This is, like, the sixth? Seventh time you've done this to me?" She rubbed at her arm and rearranged her bangs. She was decked out in full skating gear.

"Oh, so it's still _my_ fault?" Syaoran responded, disbelievingly. His grip tightened on his tummy. The effort of talking with indignation was not good for a freshly socked abdomen. Suddenly, he saw her face, and he started. His eyes slightly wide, he drank her in. She looked…different. _Where's the lipstick and the…the thing-that-girls-use-to-curl-lashes-with go? Why is she wearing only powder and—what's it called...lip gloss? Why are her clothes so casual and sporty? _The questions in his head bordered on panic. He disliked being off-guard.

"Sure, it's your fault. It always is!"

Syaoran returned to normal. _Well, the _inside_ hasn't changed. _ "If you're so sure that it's _my_ fault—again—fine, I'm sorry," he muttered, dismissively, and, ignoring the stinging pain on his left elbow, he walked past her, his slightly more relaxed arm still clutching at his stomach.

Sakura blinked at his indifference, and as he moved past, a sigh unintentionally escaped her. It was strange. It was very strange, but she _felt _the strain in his speech. Just now, when he spoke, there was that catch that betrayed pain, and she knew that he really was hurt. After all, he wasn't wearing arm pads or kneepads—or a breastplate for that matter—when they collided.

"Hey!" she yelled, pivoting on her wheels.

He stopped about ten yards from them.

"Ummm. Thank you…for not being as big a jerk as last time." Her pride wouldn't let her apologize.

He turned around, and the expression on his face was unfathomable.

"I mean…for apologizing and all—"

"I _bowed_ to say sorry last time," he said. "And I was _much_ sorrier then than now. But forget it. You're welcome." He made sure to say it like the mockery that it was, and he was just about to walk away again when Sakura skated toward him. He stopped short, not excited for another collision.

"What do you mean?" she demanded.

His eyes hardened. "Figure it out." And he pushed past her.

Sakura kept on skating beside him and the familiar drumming against his chest once again picked up speed as they both slipped into their "casual" modes. The events took place so swiftly that neither of them noticed that they were not really supposed to be in each other's company. Yes, there was that anticipation to go into battle, but no longer the evasion of the crossfire. Bearing with each other had happened often enough the last couple of weeks that it came almost to the point of being habitual.

"Where are you going?" Sakura ventured.

"You're not gonna be there." A mutter.

"What? Where's that?" Sakura leaned in, straining to hear his reply. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear…"

Syaoran clammed up.

Sakura sighed and erected herself. After a few seconds, curiosity refused resistance, and she attempted again: "Ummm. Hey? What…_did _you mean?"

"What did I mean?" Syaoran asserted, just as clueless. "What did I mean by what?"

"You know. The apology thing…"

"…"

"So…?"

"So, what?"

"So what did you mean?"

"I apologized. Before. And meant it." He made it sound eternally dull. "Today, I didn't mean it. But, hell, if you like that better… I don't really care."

"What! You _didn't_ apologize that time! And neither did you when you stole my donut, slammed a soccer ball into my tummy, and ruined my t-shirt!"

"I didn't _say_ sorry, if that's what you mean. I _bowed_. I was in a hurry. You were too busy whining on the floor to notice. And you really should've stamped a name on your donut."

Sakura flushed. "Well…well, what about the soccer ball!?" she challenged.

"That was my fault."

"Why didn't you apologize?"

"I don't remember you staying for an apology."

"And at the cafeteria, your soda—"

"My fault too."

"_And_?"

"…I'm sorry."

"Well, why didn't you say that before?"

"Because you were busy damning me to hell."

Sakura stopped short. The scene suddenly flashed in her head: a still image of the look in Hayli's eyes when she stared at the stains on Sakura's Calvin Klein blouse; and a string of curses in her own voice frantically working to regain approval…

She felt, all of a sudden, revolted.

"I—I'm…sorry," she whispered. She was cruel. Indignant. It was not her fault—!

She felt defeated.

_Damn it, Hayli. You said…you told me…_

He had not apologized then.

And he always wore ridiculous clothes.

He was too quiet, too defiant. He was weird. Rude. Disrespectful.

_You said, "We deserve respect, Sakura."_

_Damn it, Li. You can't be right this time._

_But still…_

Syaoran started when Sakura suddenly intercepted him. She skated to stop him right in his tracks, braking resolutely in front of him. His eyes narrowed; his muscles tensed for argument; his mouth opened to bite out a challenge.

Then Sakura dipped her head in a bow. "I'm sorry!" she said, the words loud and solid.

Syaoran stared, stunned.

"Tomoyo and I…will make it up to you!"

And, before he had time to register anything, Sakura's warm hand grabbed his wrist and gave a pull and a tug; then she proceeded to drag him across the street. Blood rushed to his face. Or maybe it was adrenaline. (He hoped it was adrenaline. Blushing was a tricky symptom.)

_What the hell—!?_

"Oi!" he finally managed to bite out. "Let go!"

But Sakura seemed to be gaining more and more fervor for her mission. She refused to let go. "Syaoran, we both know you and I have been rivals for a while," she said, "And we really are—well—opposites, but, given these sudden turn of circumstances, I was thinking _maybe_ we can give friendship a chance."

"No, thank you—"

"BUT! If we're going to start hanging out—" she stopped skating and jarred him to a stop. She gave him a weird smile. "I'll start it off by giving some fashion advice."

Syaoran's eyes automatically hardened, his unease vanishing. "Then _don't_ hang out with me," he said, coldly, pulling himself free from her at last. "We can go back to hating each other and let life go on normally."

Sakura's mind flashed to Hayli's taunting cosmetics-filled face (_Ah, our little Sakura's in love—with a dork!_), and she steeled herself. "No," she decided aloud. "And it's not just for me anyway, Syaoran. You'll live a better life after we're done with you too. Trust me."

"That's a trick statement," he said. "Trust you."

Sakura sighed and looked exasperated. "Syaoran, please. Just this once?" _Some help, please? Some consideration? So I can show that Hayli. I won't lose to Hayli._

"Look, I don't need this…" he started, but trailed off, seeing her determination.

There on the sidewalk, emerald eyes pierced amber.

"Please," Sakura said at last, and upon hearing his undecided sigh, she towed him along again. Tomoyo happily followed them, the red light on her camcorder blinking ceaselessly.

(CUT)

TBC


	7. Syaoran's Makeover

VII - Syaoran's Makeover

"What _is_ this?"

"It's a…department store?" Sakura looked at him as though he were crazy not to know. Syaoran glared at her, but didn't say anything. Tomoyo giggled behind her camera.

They had stopped by the house of Sakura's cousin, Umi Kinomoto, just a block from the mall to swap the girls' rollerblades for shoes. It was there that it became clear to Syaoran, who was feeling quite alienated, that Sakura and Tomoyo really hadn't meant to find him and give him a makeover, seeing how unprepared they were, skating around with no extra shoes to change into in case they went to someplace that didn't allow wheels—like the mall. It made him feel less like a dupe, knowing that it wasn't all just a setup to lead to some mortifying climax.

"Take your picks from the rack then, Sakura-chan, Tomoyo-san," Umi had said. "But make sure they come back clean and pretty: no rips, no muck, and no mud."

"You have my word!"

"And mine."

Umi had chuckled then. "It's nice to know you're beginning to sound almost trustworthy, Sakura-chan," she had teased. And Sakura had giggled in response—surprising Syaoran, who found the bell-like sound quite captivatingly innocent…

"So, to the men's department?" Sakura offered, when they stepped inside the air-conditioned building. She smiled at the camera, at Syaoran, and then began to lead the way.

"This is a waste of time," Syaoran muttered. "I am _not_ going to pay for anything that you are going to find for me."

"HOE!" Sakura stopped in her tracks. Panic flickered across her face. "But…"

"I'll pay for everything!" Tomoyo volunteered, suddenly, and Syaoran gave her a dark glare. She smiled right back at him. "I have discounts on almost every item in this mall. My mom and I shop here a lot and we kind of own a few stores here and there. It's no problem at all."

"Still, won't your mother mind…?" Syaoran attempted. "She wouldn't know to whom the investment went."

Tomoyo blinked and considered it for a moment. "Well…come to think…" she murmured. "If we buy…she might think…" She tapped a finger against her chin, lifting suddenly pensive eyes to the ceiling. She looked almost worried. Sakura began to tense; Syaoran anticipated relief. "OH WELL!" she finally declared. "Sakura-chan will testify that I'm not a tomboy."

Syaoran's jaw dropped.

Sakura's feet lifted off the floor in a victory hop. "HOORAY! Arigato gozaimashita, Tomoyo-chan!" she squealed, throwing a celebratory embrace around her best friend. Then she grabbed Syaoran and slung her arms around both of them, pressing all of them together cheek to cheek. Her grin stretched from ear to ear, and she flashed a peace sign at the devastated Chinese boy. "Here we go!"

Tomoyo giggled and flashed Syaoran a smile that he was afraid to fathom.

_If there's such a thing as mercy, let the world swallow me now…_

(CUT)

"How about this?" Sakura offered, pulling a loose pair of khaki cargo pants from a rack. Syaoran stared at her, gave the garment a moment's glimpse, met her eyes again, and pulled his gaze away, defiantly. Sakura shrugged. "That's a no. Oh well. I don't really like it either." She dove into the racks again.

Syaoran sighed. Of course, ever since the fashion project moved into motion, Sakura was the one doing most of the shopping. He was more interested in crossing his arms and acting blank-faced and aloof and pretending he wasn't with them. Tomoyo was implicitly in charge of documentation and he loathed her for it.

"Ooh." Sakura pulled out a pair of tight-fitting corduroys. "How's this?" Syaoran shook his head, violently, finally revolted enough to react. Tomoyo cringed behind the lens. Sakura giggled, returned the pair, and moved on to another rack.

Syaoran thought there was hope for not getting anything at all. _Fashion advice_, he mused, spitefully._ TSS. All I have to do is be picky enough to make you give up—_

"Okay, _this_ makes the criteria!" Sakura suddenly cheered, holding up a pair of loose black pants sewn with ice-blue thread. The material was good, the fit perfect despite a slight excess of cloth. Syaoran knew immediately that it would fit him nicely with a belt.

_I haven't worn that belt my mother gave me in so long. It would go well with that, and a shirt—_

_NO. No, I don't want it—_

"Perfect!" Tomoyo piped in.

Syaoran flashed her another glare, but the plan of intimidation was foiled when Sakura tossed him the pair of jeans before diving back into the racks with renewed energy. "Kino, it's big," he attempted, without much vehemence. He wished his brain would stop telling him that his favorite green shirt would work so well with it.

Dismissively, Sakura threw him another pair: blue, this time. (_The last shirt Fuuti gave me would work with _this_ one._) "Here. A size smaller. Try on both. One of them should fit." She smiled at him in a sweet and very unwelcome gesture of encouragement. "Go on," she said, when he wouldn't budge. "Come on, show some enthusiasm. Please?"

"These won't fit."

"Just try them."

"They're loose."

"Just try."

"Kinomoto—"

"Try them on _now_."

His glare was lethal. "Don't come with me," he said. "I don't want people to think I'm gay for being here with _you_."

"Like _I'd_ want to be seen with _you_!" Sakura retorted. She scowled as he turned his back, but broke her glossed lips into a smile as soon as she was sure he wouldn't be able to see. Tomoyo found that incredibly telling, and she edited the clip into a music video in her head.

Some moments later, Syaoran stepped out from the fitting rooms, the blue cargos billowing from under his white shirt like oversized sacks. He thought he looked ridiculous. He flashed one look at Sakura and stormed back into the stall.

Sakura's eyebrows were raised in surprise. "Did you see him?" she squealed at Tomoyo, who nodded, a pursed smile plastered across her face. "He didn't look half-bad, did he?"

"No, he looked very nice," Tomoyo dutifully replied.

Sakura sighed in relief. "Finally, a bearable companion!" she exclaimed, but the moment the words were out, something contracted inside her and made her think that it really wasn't a thing she had to say. She lowered her eyes. The feeling wasn't right…

_Well, it's true! _she argued, silently._ He looked good in them. And I look good in most things. At least I'll deserve the company. Or he'll deserve my company. Or…we'll deserve each other—though that doesn't sound right. That doesn't sound right at all. Well…he looked nice, and he would look very nice. _

_Yeah…he _could _be good-looking… _

She harrumphed. _These thoughts are sooo stupid—_

"HOE!" Someone threw a thick pair of heavy, black jeans at her, and she floundered her way back into reality. "Who did that…" She trailed off. Syaoran's hard, amber eyes were glaring at her. She glanced down. He was back to wearing his old shorts.

"What happened?" Sakura asked. "Why didn't you try this one on?"

Syaoran looked like he was struggling with himself. His fists were clenched inside his pockets. His eyes were chocolate shards. "I did," he said, quietly. The words sounded yanked out of his throat. "They…they're…"

Tomoyo smiled, knowingly.

"You don't like them?" Sakura prodded. "It's okay. I'll look for another pair, although I do think—"

"I'll buy that one," Tomoyo cut in. Syaoran made another attempt to shut her up with a look. Her smile was impervious to it.

"Hoe?" Sakura blinked. "Are you sure? We haven't seen how it looks on him."

"I'm sure," Tomoyo said.

Syaoran pulled his glare away in defeat. He just really wanted to vanish. He hated the heat flooding his face, hated Tomoyo and her all-seeing eyes and wicked, unwavering smile, hated his afternoon, hated Sakura and her pushy vanity. He wished he could just run and disappear and be gone from their memories. He wished he would suddenly snap and lose all capacity for feeling. Feelings were complicated. He wanted his life lived as impassively as possible, as devoid of confusion as he could make it. He didn't want emerald-eyed girls smiling at him and pulling his hand and dragging him all over the mall. He wanted to get out of there. He wanted a new life, a new name—

"Okay then, let's get you a shirt next, Syaoran-kun!"

…_Really. This is life being, you know, nice._

(CUT)

"Oh! So here's where you live?" Sakura said, gaping up at the apartment building and skidding to a stop on her roller skates.

Tomoyo's camera panned across the length of the building's façade. "Hmmm," she murmured, smiling a smile that Syaoran could find no reason for.

His eyes shifted to his window. "Yeah," he said. "I'd invite you in, but—"

"We'd decline," Sakura finished. She smiled a little. "I need to go home now. Onii-chan and Otou-san might be worried."

"Well, I can't stay alone!" Tomoyo piped up. She turned off her camera and looked at her companions with her own heliotrope eyes, a sight that neither Syaoran nor Sakura had seen frequently that day. "I think I'd rather sign off too."

Syaoran nodded in the orange-purple sunset. Well, it was better that they leave anyway. He needed some time alone.

Sakura's emerald eyes were shining even in the dusky twilight. "I never thought I'd see the day to say this but…it was okay having you." She smiled.

Syaoran stared at her. "Well, thanks," he muttered. "I'll pay you back," he added, to Tomoyo.

"Oh, no, please! My treat to a new friend!" Tomoyo replied, shaking her head and smiling.

Syaoran flushed a rather deep coloration that was thankfully obscured by shadows. "Thanks," he repeated.

The silence that followed was awkward. A soft breeze ruffled by. No one spoke.

"Well, bye then!" Tomoyo said, suddenly, her voice breaking the quiet. "I'll see you guys on Monday! I'll meet up with you during lunch, if not before?"

"Definitely." Sakura smiled.

"Li-kun?"

"Hold on." Syaoran felt a sudden surge of nausea. "I'm not going to be at your table. I'm still pretty much your crowd's guinea pig, and I won't say I'd like to be there either. You guys are flattering yourselves if you think I'll put up with that."

Sakura stared at him, the "your crowd" part zinging like an arrow straight to her heart. Bull's eye.

"I see…" she said, quietly. "Okay then…"

"Well, whatever happens, see you on Monday!" Tomoyo said, brushing off the topic and breezing past, brandishing a hand as goodbye, her hair flowing behind her in liquid waves. Two pairs of eyes watched her as she disappeared down the street.

Silence befell the couple left behind, continuing to reign until both became extremely ill at ease.

Syaoran's hand tightened on the paper bags, and he hid further still under his auburn locks, eyes never meeting hers.

"So, uh…" Sakura said, braving to speak. "Wear them?" She motioned towards the packages. They had bought several items separately, and they hadn't yet had the chance to see the whole effect. Syaoran wasn't too excited.

"Whenever," he replied, vaguely.

"Do you promise?" she pressed.

"…Whatever."

"Please promise?"

He paused. "I'll think about it—"

"Promise me."

"Well—"

"Come on, please?"

"Okay, but—"

"Great!" She smiled, and then sobered slightly as something dawned on her. "Ummm. I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions about you before," she murmured. "It _was_ kind of humiliating to fall on your behind in public and all…and I didn't see—"

"Yeah," Syaoran quietly cut her off, although the embarrassment was still fresh inside him. She hadn't just made cracks about his apology-deprived scenes with her; she had made jokes about his way of dressing to, and that afternoon's worth of shopping had been a blow—not a big one, but a blow nevertheless—to his ego. And, well, having two girls actually _shop_ for you was…_unbecoming_.

He turned away from her and heard her voice as soon as a second passed: "Bye, then, Syaoran." He looked up to reply, but she was already gone.

(CUT)

"Syaoran-sama," Wei acknowledged, when Syaoran collapsed into the apartment. He took the packages from Syaoran's grip. "You've been shopping?" he asked.

"_They've_ been shopping," Syaoran responded, vaguely. Ignoring the look Wei gave him, he took off for his room, keen on a quiet session with himself.

Wei watched him and shook his head slightly, a grin hidden beneath his mustache on his face. He had been with Syaoran and his family long enough to know that something was definitely different that day. Not meaning to be snoopy but unable to resist, he held up the paper bags and examined the receipts. All items were expensive and branded…

He looked at Syaoran's closed bedroom door.

Yes. Something was definitely different.

(CUT)

TBC


	8. In Cutie's Clothing

VIII - In Cutie's Clothing

An alarm clock beeped its incredibly loud wake up calls through the stillness of the dewy morning. A hand shot up from under billows of soft garments and cut off the annoying sound with an irritated whack at the clock, knocking it off the table and into silence.

"Hoe..."

The hand disappeared once again beneath the layers of blankets. Moments after, the steady rising and lowering of the figure underneath the cushions as she breathed back into slumber reoccurred.

_Another school day...another day with Hayli...and Syaoran...hoe~_

Then she snapped awake.

_Syaoran! He's supposed to be a dork in cutie's clothing today! I forgot!_

She glanced at the time, and her sleepy emerald eyes widened in horror. She had exactly fifteen minutes to prepare herself and get to school! It was not possible! Surely she hadn't extended her sleep for _that_ long! Her hand reached up and grasped at her tousled hair, pushing the honey locks from her face.

"Oi, kaijuu! Wake up! 'Tousan, I'm leaving now," Touya's voice floated up the stairs, switching from bossy to courteous as he switched addressees. After Fujitaka's reply a few seconds later, he shouted again, "OI, KAIJUU! WAKE UP!! See you later, 'tousan." And the door creaked open and banged shut.

Sakura shot up from her bed and tossed the snug blankets to the side. This was no dream. She was running very, very late.

"HOOOOEEEEE!!!"

(CUT)

"Looks like our resident ice cube just got out of bed," Naoko said, her eyebrow haughtily shooting up as she eyed Syaoran's outfit. "Looks like he came here just to let us know he'll be adding an extra five minutes to his beauty sleep."

"That still isn't taking effect until now," Kaori appended, pointedly.

Hayli smiled a wicked little smile at her friends' vicious jokes, her red lips curving into a subtle sneer as her glance briefly met Syaoran's.

Syaoran met the insults with uninterested indifference as he made his way to an isolated seat by the window. Tomoyo tried to smile at him from behind Hayli's creamy, powdered shoulder, but he didn't return it. He headed to his chair and flopped down, turning his head to stare out the window.

His indulgence in serenity was broken a minute later when an icy voice that hid an unspoken sweetness filled the classroom.

"Hey, guys!"

He bit back a groan.

"Hey, Sakura."

"Good morning."

"Ohayo, Sakura-chan."

"Ohayo, Tomoyo-chan." She deliberately missed greeting the others by name. She looked around, coolly, keeping a pretend smile on her face. She noticed the arched eyebrows and haughty grins all around her and scented a fashion critique in the air. "What's up?"

"It's your boyfriend, the class creep," Hayli answered. "He forgot to change his clothes after getting up this morning." She motioned with her shoulder to the impassive boy and watched Sakura's expression closely.

It was all Sakura could do not to gasp. Hayli noticed the flush tint Sakura's face and she laughed.

"Excuse me," Sakura muttered, and stomped over to Syaoran.

The rest of the group except Tomoyo giggled.

Syaoran felt her coming before she slammed her palms on his desk and forced his glance to meet hers. "WHAT ARE YOU WEARING!?" she hissed, the red livid on her face.

His eyes darkened, and his eyebrows knitted together to form the familiar, defiant scowl as he met her angry eyes. "Clothes," he replied, darkly.

"Clothes!?" Sakura echoed. "These!?"

"Hey—!"

She slammed her palms on his desk again and shoved her face closer to his. "Where are the clothes?" she demanded. "Why aren't you wearing them? You promised me!"

"What for? So I could look like your...creation? Your minion?"

"What are you talking about!?" Her voice started to rise. "You promised me you would wear them today. I heard you. You _swore_ you'd wear them."

"I did not '_swear'_—!"

She flashed him an accusatory look that actually made him choke down the rest of the denial.

His eyes suddenly shifted about the room as he became aware of the escalating population in the classroom. He forced himself to face Sakura and deliberately inhaled to calm himself.

"Stop overreacting," he hissed. "The clothes are in my locker."

"No, _those_ should be in your locker." She made no effort to hide her distaste for his plain white shirt and jogging pants.

Syaoran flared. "Well, hell, they're _not_ in my locker!" he lashed out, not quite succeeding in screening his deflated ego. "I'm wearing them! I'm used to these clothes and they fit me fine! Leave me alone if they bother you so much. In fact, leave me alone even if they don't!"

"No, you have to keep your promise!" Sakura insisted, shaking her head with vehemence. "A promise is a promise, Syaoran, no excuses. You have to wear what we agreed on! You're...you're wasting money!"

"They still have their tags on. I'll return them. I'll give Daidouji back her money, and you your time. You'll have all your free hours back if you'd just _stop hounding me_."

_HOUNDING HIM??_ The last phrase struck her, fracturing a portion of her confidence. She was, for the briefest moment, flustered._ After all the work, he still thinks I'm _hounding_ him? Not even hanging out or just _being_ with him, but _hounding_ him? This is unbelievable!_

"On top of being totally untrustworthy, you say I'm _hounding _you...??" she echoed, half-angry and half-hurt. The tone with which she spoke actually wedged a tense spike through Syaoran's irritation. "You are unbelievable!" she said.

Hayli, from her perch several meters away, rolled her eyes. "Sakura can be _so_ slow, sometimes," she jadedly muttered. Tomoyo, apprehensive, watched from her side, a slight frown creasing her pale forehead.

Sakura shook her head when Syaoran did not say anything. She felt genuinely cheated. On top of disappointing her, he just had to insult her too. "Forget it," she said. "Go and return the clothes." And she started to walk back to her gossiping gang, all murmuring about the whispered argument save for Tomoyo, who clearly still thought Syaoran perfectly molded to be the high school heartthrob.

Syaoran watched Sakura turn away, a sinking feeling starting to invade his stomach when he realized he was not about to let her leave when it meant that he had failed to hold his end of the bargain. The struggle within him was excruciating: the pride that held him from becoming her fashion doll versus the pride that guarded the integrity of his word.

He felt something vibrate in his throat: a word. "Hey."

Damned promise.

Sakura turned back.

"I…" he started. "I...promised you...?"

Sakura wanted to laugh at the desperation in his voice that begged her to say no. "Yes," she said.

Syaoran shrank into his seat. "I can't believe this..." he muttered, sinking against the backrest of his chair. "I can't believe this..." He stole a glance at her scowling face and breathed deep, raising his eyes to the ceiling and furrowing even deeper into his desk.

"Seriously," Sakura said, sounding nonchalant now, like she couldn't care less. It was a show she put on pretty well. She shrugged her shoulders, as though it didn't matter to her anymore. "Seriously, forget about the whole thing. It was all just a joke for you, so go ahead and—"

Syaoran cut her off when he pushed back his chair noisily and stood up. He met her eyes levelly, stared at her for a long time.

She waited, excitement beginning to seep back into her when she recognized the struggle in his eyes.

Finally—"It's not my lucky day," he intoned, and he brushed past her and left the classroom.

Sakura stared at his retreating back, not quite understanding what he meant yet. Then, several minutes after he left, her eyes widened, and she let out a loud, wildly thrilled, high-pitched squeal. "Hanyaaan!"

(CUT)

_Rrrrrrrriiiiiiinnnngggggg….! Rrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnggggggg…!_

"What's taking him?" Sakura whispered to Tomoyo. "Class is about to start. He's never late." She drummed her polished nails against her desk and bit at her lower lip, emerald eyes focused on the closed classroom door.

Tomoyo shrugged in reply, clearly just as clueless. "He left the classroom three minutes before the bell…"

Sakura looked tense. "I know, but I—"

The door slid open.

Her heart rose.

"Ohayo."

"Ohayo, sensei!"

Sakura sagged. She didn't know why she was so disappointed. Was she actually looking forward to seeing _Li Syaoran_?

_That…that's not right…_She considered it for a moment, but shrugged it off. _It's nothing, I mean…wouldn't _you_ be excited too if you get this chance to see someone like _him_ dress up like someone akin to, say, Eriol? This…anticipation—fine, that's what it is—this is all natural…_

"Okay!" The teacher's voice jolted her back to reality. "So who here studied our topic yesterday? The Second World War?" Takano-sensei continued to ask as he shuffled around in his bag for his mateRials. Nobody answered. He looked around, searching for a raised hand. "Anyone?" he prodded, and still nobody said a word. "Well!" he said. "That's a shame, because I—"

The door slid open again, and all heads turned to see the latecomer.

"O—ohayo, sensei…"

Hayli's eyebrows rose and her lips curved into a demure little smile. "Ooh. Who's the hot—"

"Well, good morning to you too, Mr. Li," the teacher said.

Hayli's mouth dropped open.

Sakura's smile was triumphant.

Syaoran dipped his head in profuse embarrassment. "I…I'm sorry, I'm late…" he stammered. "I was…in the bathroom…"

The classroom was totally silent.

Why, oh why? Why had he let Sakura talk him into changing clothes!? He could feel all the stares, all the questions. He wanted to freeze. Die. Collapse. Only, if he did, right then and there, he didn't think anyone would even leap to react. He wished people would leave him alone. He wanted to vanish. That would be so cool.

"Mr. Li, you may take your seat now." Takano's voice jolted him from his bow, and Syaoran realized he had stood there for the longest time now. The teacher wondered what was wrong, obviously missing the significance of the moment.

Syaoran, feeling curious eyes drinking in every inch of him and trying with all self-control not to hide, nodded and silently walked the several meters towards his seat, his face flushed.

He had removed his white shirt and instead donned a black polo shirt, the top two buttons unbuttoned. The shirt, splashed red and streaked with lightning, with a silhouette of Battousai Himura in a fighting stance on the front, clung to him just right. It was loose, but not loose enough to make him look like a twig. Billowing from under the hems were black, voluminous pants, held by a slack belt hidden under the loose garments. His hair was in disarray from the rush of changing the last few minutes before class started. His amber eyes were downcast.

Tomoyo and Sakura were ecstatic. Emerald met amethyst, and they gave each other silent pats on the back.

Hayli turned to Kaori, who was just as shocked. "Pinch me," Hayli hissed. "I _should_ be dreaming. No, this is a nightmare. I'm asleep. That is _not_ Li Syaor—"

Kaori obliged and pinched her—hard.

"OW!!" Hayli shrieked, dropping the exaggerated charade and clutching at her arm and rubbing the reddish spot to ease the sudden sting. "What the hell did you do that for!?"

Kaori blanched. "You _told_ me to do it!" she pointed out, and when Hayli's angry look didn't soften, she clamped her mouth shut and shrank into her chair.

Sakura ripped out a piece of paper from her little pink notebook and scribbled away madly with her thick, purple-inked pen. She folded it and wrote his name across the front, discreetly sliding it onto the desk next to hers. It passed from hand to hand while Tanaka sensei began to digress from the Second World War to a trip he and his wife had made to the Philippines several weeks ago.

Syaoran glanced up when the note landed _kerplunk_ on his desk. He had never received a note in his life before. His name on the front was written in Sakura's unmistakable handwriting. He opened it, his amber eyes unfathomable.

_Dear Syaoran-kun,_

_We have good taste. =)_

_Sakura _

He closed his eyes and sank slightly into his chair, carefully avoiding the eyes that still frequently flashed his way. He didn't think anything could have made the situation worse.

(CUT)

"Hey! You look great!" Sakura called, as she jogged up next to him after that class. She eyed his outfit and again congratulated herself for her good fashion sense. The polo fit so well, and the hint of skin from the top two undone buttons teased the line of being practically...sexy.

Syaoran was not as convinced. "I'm _thrilled_, Kino," he said. "Really. Super." He walked on past her, colder than usual. Sakura ran to catch up with him, and she was just about to say something when he cut her off. "Did you see them _looking_ at me? Even though I'm a nonentity to your clique, Kinomoto, I have this _image_ to hold up too—"

"Whoa, hey," Sakura said, stopping his speech and stopping him in his tracks too. "Look, don't be so upset." Syaoran turned away, tried to walk past her again, but she blocked him with persistence. She searched his face. "Are you mad?"

His brown eyes looked into hers, mocking the question and how obvious his answer was.

Sakura shrank back. She pressed her lips together and moved out of his way, seemingly with much effort. "Fine, alright, you can change back into your old clothes. I...I don't...mind." If the last part sounded like it had been wrenched out of her throat without her consent, it wasn't her fault.

Syaoran's gaze slipped back to her and heaved a heavy sigh. This outfit-thing sure seemed like a big deal to her. For a moment, he was tempted to say "thanks" and make a run for his locker, but then her crestfallen face was a sight that tugged at his guilt strings so hard, it made him feel sick two ways: 1) he _had_ made a deal with her and he hated the thought of backing down on his word, and 2) the feeling that went through him whenever he looked at her and entertained the thought of her disappointment just didn't feel right.

So he just sighed. "Yeah, I could do that..." he said, "And let your little circle call me a liar for the rest of my life…" He was feeling strangely lopsided even as the words spilled out of his mouth.

Sakura shifted her head a little and raised her eyebrows.

"Hey, I promised," he finally concluded. "And I can't even return these things now that I've already worn them." He shrugged, and for some reason, couldn't resist a rather lopsided girl to curl on his lips. "It's a harsh life."

Sakura's eyes widened. "You mean you'll wear the…_really!?_"

"Quit gushing."

"Syaoran-kun...I...thank you!" Sakura burst out. "THANK YOU!" He thought she made the motion to hug him, but stopped herself in time, grabbed his hand instead and squeezed it hard. Then she soared off down the hall.

Syaoran stared after her and shook his head.

_What is wrong with me._

_(CUT)_

TBC


	9. Li Meiling

IX – Li Meiling

_How did I get myself into this?_

Syaoran edged his way self-consciously through the somewhat frozen crowd on the way to his next, very much dreaded class. The whispers gathered with increasingly numbing momentum as he wove through the mass of bodies. Eyes bore holes into his black-clothed back and left him feeling embarrassed beyond reasonable belief.

He did _not _like making heads turn. He did _not _like the gossip he left in his wake. He did _not _like the appreciative grinning of several girls as he slipped past, trying his best to look like he was not wearing anything he normally wouldn't. He felt like an anomaly, like a walking magic trick, like a rabbit popping out of a hat or a leprechaun in a pantry cupboard.

He hated to think what would happen if the classroom door would already be wide open when he got there—or even if it was going to be closed. A door opening always made heads turn, and seeing Li Syaoran dressed for the parties behind it would definitely make mouths yap.

He reached the door to his class. It was _ajar_.

_Hahaha._

He sighed, glancing in heavy consternation at the door and the slight gap that showed a glimpse into a busy classroom. He cursed inwardly. The traffic within the room was undoubtedly running high with excitement. His appearance would constitute all-out astonishment. Syaoran never did like too much attention. Separation from the hyperactive high school crowds gave him room to breathe and exist without fuss. But now he was smack-dab in the middle of a crossroad sticky with traffic jam—because of Sakura.

He breathed deeply and pushed a hand cautiously up to the door. He widened the short gap a few inches and peered inside. Right. Traffic jam indeed.

A grimace came over his features. _Stupid, Syaoran! How could you have let that girl do this to you!?!? This is the biggest mistake you've ever gotten yourself int—WHOOOA!!_

Suddenly, the door was pulled violently open from inside, and, overbalancing, he staggered two steps into the room. He even had to hop a little to keep from falling flat on his face. He straightened himself quickly, ill at ease, embarrassed and absolutely _not_ liking it. His amber eyes darted in search for the cruel, evil door-opener.

Then he stopped.

Amber met red, framed by black, hip-long tresses—impossibly straight.

The shade of her gaze was so unlike any other's that even just by a glance, he could already tell who it was. The individualistic, sort of rebellious aura radiated solidly from her, and it gave her presence, name, and social status away.

Syaoran strode toward her. He opened his mouth to demand why the heck she did what she just did. But then he managed to check himself just a second before he could make a fool of himself, and he quickly snapped his mouth shut. He didn't want to sound like a bully or an egoistic tyrant. That would go too well with his clothes.

_K'so_. "Why did you—I mean, you were the one who—" He stopped, perplexed, his mind buzzing with a million rephrases. "Did you open the door?" he finally asked, quite blandly.

The lips curved into a smirk. The ruby eyes never left him. Then, to his horror, they rolled slowly, mockingly down, and then even more slowly back up, drinking in every modishly altered inch. "Nice outfit," she said, quietly.

Syaoran reeled back. And to his extreme dismay, the annoyance left him and was replaced, yet again, by an even more intense shyness. A flick here and a glance there told him that he had just earned himself the entire population's nonessential attention.

He flashed his amber eyes back to Meiling's and didn't reply.

"You picked those out yourself?" she asked.

Syaoran preferred to die before he told anybody he had been out shopping one whole afternoon with Sakura Kinomoto and Tomoyo Daidouji. "Give me one good reason why I should put up with you, Meiling," he said, "And I will."

"Why, what's the matter, Li? Couldn't face up to that self-indulgent brat Sakura anymore?" she asked, pursing a smirk.

"And what makes you think she's involved in this?" he shot back.

"I don't know, why don't _you_ tell me?" she replied, arching an eyebrow up into her bangs and cocking her head as if to challenge him. She gave a soft, unpleasant laugh that could pass for a scoff, and shook her head a little. "You know," she said. "You used to impress me." Syaoran's void, amber eyes narrowed at the semi-accolade. "You used to be able to stand up to those popular jerks," she explained, and she was almost smiling at him. But then her eyes hardened again. "But now—my goodness—look at you, all dressed up like that!"

She sounded falsely pleased, just the way Syaoran hated it. A darker scowl lanced across his features. "You don't have a point, do you?" he said, sourly.

At the accusation, the red eyes suddenly flashed. "They're drooling all over you like you're some kind of newborn puppy they got for free at the dog pound!"

"You're off-tangent," Syaoran serenely replied. "Sakura's got nothing to do with anything. And besides that, _you_ shouldn't even care about _my_ life because you have your own to fuss over."

She leaned back from him, smirking wanly. "And you're even defending them…" she murmured, looking like something tragic had just happened to him. "This is all so sad."

Nothing could bring him to restrain the enragement that gurgled up inside him. "Oh, what, you think you've got the entire situation figured out?" he burst out and challenged.

"No, but I do know that you can't slam a soccer ball into her stomach the way you _used to_ be able to do!" Meiling's voice began to rise too. "And I bet you've also lost the guts to pour soda into that arrogant pinhead's t-shirt too! Oh no. No more of that for you. You've gone and made a hand-puppet of yourself for those airheads. Isn't that right, Li Syaoran?"

Syaoran burned inside. "Watch what you say, Meiling," he said.

"Oh sure," she replied, shooting him one last tight, feigned smile. As they shouldered past each other, she tossed him a last comment that haunted him the rest of that day: "You're a fraud."

(CUT)

Sakura tossed her head back against the bench's backrest as she tilted her face upwards to view the pleasantly cloudy skies. An evident smile was on her lips. A flicker of laughter hovered in her emerald green eyes.

"You look happy," Tomoyo quietly observed as she watched her friend, her own soft smile draped across her features.

Sakura looked at her and straightened in her seat. "Tomoyo," she said, her voice shrill and sounding forced into modulation, as if it was all she could do to keep from bouncing up and screaming. "Did you see him? Tomoyo-chan, we did it!"

She could see it now: how she would walk through the campus side by side with the new Syaoran, how the others girls would begin to murmur and how in time they would envy her, how she would cajole him into a trip to the mall where he would buy her a drink, a snack, a sandwich, or maybe French fries, how they might even have dinner sometime, in a sweet little restaurant with soft, shaded lights and stuffed, comfy seats...

How he would smile at her, every so often...

And fall for her.

The thought made her smile even more broadly. "It's inevitable, Tomoyo-chan," she said.

"Inevitable?" Tomoyo echoed, cluelessly.

Sakura nodded, a bit dreamily. "Him and me," she explained, vaguely. Tomoyo's eyebrow shot into her bangs. "It's coming: my ultimate triumph." The arched eyebrow lowered again.

"Oh. The dare," Tomoyo said.

Sakura blinked at her. "Yes, .the dare," she repeated. "Why, did you think I have forgotten about it?"

Tomoyo raised a sheepish smile toward her. "Honestly..." She shrugged slightly. "Yes."

Sakura stared at her, her eyebrows arched high, waiting for her friend to say she was kidding. When Tomoyo didn't, she found nothing else to do but laugh. "Tomoyo-chan!" she chastised, playfully, slapping Tomoyo lightly on the shoulder. She continued to giggle, waiting for Tomoyo to join her.

But Tomoyo clearly did not share her mirth. Her amethyst eyes were humorless. "Sakura-chan..."

At the whisper, Sakura's smile vanished. She turned to friend's unsmiling face, to the downcast, muddled eyes and the soft crease between furrowed eyebrows. "What is it? Is there anything wrong?"

Tomoyo seemed to want to think her answer out further, but Sakura didn't like being kept in suspense. "Tomoyo-chan," she prodded, the curiosity crushing her. "What is it?" Her voice tightened.

"Don't you think it's...cruel?" Tomoyo said, carefully.

Sakura's eyebrows furrowed. "Cruel?" she echoed. "What—how do you mean?"

Tomoyo avoided Sakura's searching eyes. "I mean, yes, maybe you could say we succeeded, but aren't we just..." She tried to find a softer word for it, but couldn't— "...fooling him?"

Sakura drew back, struck. Then she pursed her lips into a tight line. She stared emptily at her lap, where she slowly and calculatingly folded her fingers. "It's..." she began, and then she stopped and lifted her eyes toward the gate, where English Literature students—one of them, Syaoran—would soon come flooding out.

"It's...up to him to believe..." Sakura said at last, after a long pause that Tomoyo didn't disturb. She flicked her eyes back to her lap, again, looking but not seeing.

Tomoyo didn't reply.

Neither of them spoke at all in the next following minutes, until Tomoyo raised her eyes to the gate and replaced the sunny smile on her face, though now it seemed more mellow now—paler, somehow. "He's here," she said.

Sakura looked up and her heart skipped a few beats. Nevertheless, she fabricated a smile and plastered it on her face, standing up and starting to walk over, closer to the vague, amber eyes that had just met her gaze.

(CUT)

Syaoran drew in a sharp breath upon sighting her, and another—sharper—when they locked gazes. He wished he could just look away and move off, but he already knew that there was no escaping her.

"Hey," Sakura greeted, stepping up to him. Daidouji followed, flashing him that soft, gentle smile. He grunted in acknowledgement—or maybe not, whatever. He didn't say anything, merely eluded her eyes.

"So, how did it all go?" Sakura asked, excitedly. She was almost hopping. He felt her eyes drop briefly down to the black polo shirt—which was driving him nuts with all the absorbed heat—and then rose back up to his face.

Her question highlighted a flush on his face. He quickly wiped it off with an insignificant shrug. He refused to reply. The topic was seriously disturbing.

After several seconds of silence and his continued lack of cooperation, Sakura finally sensed his elusion and decided halfheartedly to back down for the moment. "Well, you do look great, you know," she said, as a last, consoling remark, to ease the moment.

"Thanks..." he replied, quietly, exactly like he didn't really mean it.

Sakura nevertheless smiled at the response. Her eyes again began to roam his outfit, pleasure and appreciation seeping into them without concealment. She did not even mind or care how much it tormented him to be stared at like that.

"So what are you doing this afternoon, Li-kun?" Tomoyo asked him.

"Nothing. I'm going home."

"Oh." Sakura's eyes met his again, at last. "Well...would you like to come...?" Then, suddenly, she shook her head, half-smilingly, and trailed off. "Never mind."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You already started to say it."

"I decided not to."

Syaoran frowned. "Fine."

"Fine," Sakura said back, and then, after a few seconds, she laughed. She touched him slightly on the arm. "I just thought you might want to come to the mall with us this afternoon to hang out for a while, and—I know, I know," she said, quickly, when she saw Syaoran start to open his mouth. "No thanks!" they both said together, Sakura in a perfect impersonation, and Syaoran with a dark grimace.

He stared at her as she fell apart in giggles, apparently finding the conversation extremely amusing. He didn't think so—at least not as much as she did. Besides the fact that in the first place her planned invitation was completely outrageous, he didn't like the idea that she had him all figured out. Not that she actually _did_, but—

And it was then that he saw _her_, and suddenly, a glare lanced his face—one of his coldest and iciest yet.

Sakura snapped her mouth shut in feeling the abrupt tension. Something cold and eerie had just fallen on the moment—smothered it so completely in just a split second.

"Syaoran-kun...?" She was tentative, unsure whether or not to approach the now-angry visage.

Was he mad at her again? For what? For laughing? For enjoying the fact that they had spoken in unison? For liking the way he looked and paying him a compliment?

Syaoran didn't answer. He just kept on glaring—an intense, annoyed, very much irate glare. And it disliked her, every fiber, roots to tips; hated her almost, though it bordered more on sheer irritation.

Sakura did not appreciate it one bit, especially because she had done nothing to deserve it.

"_We're just fooling him..."_

Sakura shook the flashing memory away. She had not fabricated any lies recently. The compliment had been real. Even the invitation was real. And, heck, even _he_ couldn't deny that her impersonation of his reply had been spot-on.

Wildly confused, she rapidly dissected their conversation in her mind, sifting for reasonable causes of the sudden and unexplained indifference. She came up with nothing. She had said nothing wrong.

But why? Why was he glaring? Was he still peeved that she had let him wear the outfit? Was that it?

"Why are you looking at me like that??" she demanded at last. "Are you still mad because I let you wear those clothes?"

Syaoran seemed to emerge from the trance of his own anger. "What?" he said.

"You're glaring at me like that like I'm some sort of—of—of a virus," Sakura explained. "I _did_ let you choose, Syaoran. You know that! I gave you the choice of wearing that outfit or not. You decided to go on with it. I stopped forcing you to it, remember? You chose that of your own accord, to live up to your promise—"

"Kino, it's not—!" Then he stopped. His eyes flashed so briefly to a point just beyond her head that she didn't even detect it, and then he cast his eyes down. "I'm sorry," he said. "I gotta go."

Sakura sighed. "Yeah, well,." she said . "You always do."

He made as if to say something else, but decided against it. "I'll just...see you around."

And he left.

(CUT)

_Why?? Why me!? Doesn't she have anybody else's life to ruin?? What on Earth did I ever do to her??_

She had been there—again! She had been leaning casually against the cherry tree that Sakura and Tomoyo had vacated when he arrived, hands across her chest, head tilted carelessly to one side, throwing fires with a glare that basically screamed "I'm watching you, Li Syaoran."

_And whatever freakin' for!?!?_

He wished she would just get out of his life. He told her so by glaring.

Oh, but no. She still just stood there with the same sardonic eyes, the same contemptuous smile, and that disdainful frown streaking shadows on her pale, Chinese complexion. She had to stay. She just had to stay and watch him talk with Sakura—watch him _not_ douse the girl with soda, and be angry at him for it.

Syaoran held no qualms about anybody getting mad at him. It was a human thing to feel. He could endure talks behind his back or secret jeers or gossip, but _stalking_?? That was _RIDICULOUS!_

She was piercing him, absolutely _piercing_ him, with those deep red eyes and flaring, I-knew-it-I-was-right-you-are-a-sucker-for-that-pinhead look. It radiated so clearly toward him, so provocative, so insufferably infuRiating, he just had to glare and pierce her right back.

He was busy doing this with this bug-off-will-you-you're-ruining-my-freakin'-life-get-your-own when Sakura spoke up.

Really now. He hadn't meant to seem like he was pointing that face at her. He had actually been pointing it to a spot just a little to the right of Sakura's face, by her ear—which, he supposed, wasn't far enough.

Syaoran supposed, almost with guilt, that it must have looked fairly _unkind_ to her, and he could also tell for a fact that had also hurt her feelings somehow, from the way that she took it so personally and spoke to him the way she did. Yeah, he could blame it on her sensitivity and girls' ridiculous melodramatic flairs, but, well, he really _was_ kind of gifted with glares.

He cursed again inside. It was all Meiling's fault, for being there, for making his life more complicated than it already was. His life has gone beyond comprehension ever since Sakura entered it! Because until she did, everything was fine—a bit dull, maybe, but _fine._

"A fraud..." he murmured, recoiling slightly at the memory of Meiling's accusations.

Until three weeks ago, he hardly even _saw_ Sakura anymore—not even when she paraded with her in-crowd buddies down the halls and flashed this particularly nasty look his way; not even when he crossed the classrooms for his window seat and their group would burst into gossip and whispers; not even when she tossed tactless insults over her back at him with her friends while pretending she didn't know he was there. Okay, maybe he did see her a _little_—just a few glimpses.

But over the past few weeks...

Flashes of their encounters returned to his mind, lingering and piling up into a big, big mound of confusion. It killed him—how none of them seemed to match the loathing that he used to—

He snapped up. "Used to??" he berated, hissing under his breath. Then he shook his head. "Syaoran, you are nuts."

_This is all Meiling's fault! She had to go and remind me of this mess!_

But other thoughts were crowding in:

_Why, Syaoran? Don't you want to be reminded anymore? Do you want to _stay_ in this cryptic dream?? You want to stay with Sakura? Stay in the illusion of her smile that you feel gets more and more real everyday?_

There was something annoyingly satirical about that little voice there.

Syaoran shook his head. "No," he muttered under his breath. "No, of course not."

Darn it. His head was spinning already, and the day was far from over. He had two stalkers now, one a hundred times more annoying than the other; one edging her way into his mind, the other bursting in out of nowhere; one tempering down, the other torturing him knowingly; one the cause of the other's sudden appearance. Both unexpected.

He had to get his life back. He just had to. He had to forget Sakura. Forget Meiling. Throw the outfit Kino and Tomoyo had bought for him in the trash bin or set it on fire.

But he knew it was impossible to forget. Even in spite of the fact that he had a sharp memory, Sakura had done enough to last him a lifetime's worth of reminiscing.

Her smile...that laughter...

_How did this happen? How could I have let it happen? _

How had that smirk tempered to a gentle, playful, maybe even warm, grin? And where in the world did her blush, eye-lining, and eyebrow penciling go? It was a sham, some kind of a ploy to get back at him. He knew it. But she persisted, nagging at the back of his mind, knocking and knocking and driving him nuts.

He tried to find a word for it—intrusion? Invasion? Insanity, maybe? Nothing quite fit. _Darn it all._ Now he would be doomed to thinking of the perfect word for it for the rest of the night, maybe even the rest of the week (and that was a long way to go).

Defeat surged through him. He knew, now more than ever, that unless he banged his head mercilessly against the door frame and gained amnesia or maybe asked to be lobotomized, it would be hopeless to get Sakura Kinomoto out of his mind.

(CUT)

TBC


	10. To Slip Again

X - To Slip Again

"Hello? Hello, Syaoran-kun?"

Syaoran groaned inaudibly and collapsed onto the couch, suddenly sorry that he had even answered the call. Part of him wanted to slam the phone down. That should be enough of a hint to tell her he was tired and didn't want to talk with anybody, especially her, since he was still trying to work out how he was going to make her dissipate from his mind. Another part of him wanted to imitate a little girl's voice and say, "Gomen, onee-sama, you have the wrong number. There is no Syaoran here," just so she would never attempt to call the number again.

He hesitated, suspending them both in a momentous silence.

"_I'm tired. Go away." Say it, Syaoran. "Don't call me."_

"_Wrong number."_

"_Goodbye."_

"Yeah, it's me." His voice was quiet. A voice in his head burst out in satiric laughter.

Sakura sounded relieved. "Hi! I, uh, just called to…check up on you…!"

One of Syaoran's eyebrows shot up and disappeared into his bangs. "Wow, _mother_, you sound oddly like a girl I know from school."

He imagined (quite vividly) her try to suppress a giggle.

"I can feel your smirk from here, Syaoran," she said, and he knew she was trying to sound moody.

"You're not wrong," he replied.

"I suppose I should be proud of that?" she said.

He shrugged. "I don't know about you, but I am."

She burst out laughing.

A surge of alarm went through him at the bell-like sound. His mouth suddenly tightened, and it was then that he realized he had been grinning. An unwelcome cold suddenly settled into his insides.

_What is this...? What am I doing...? I cannot actually be _enjoying_ this...!_

He shook the evil thought off, feeling vaguely like his mind had turned on him at some point within the day. He was _not_ enjoying the conversation, damn it. He was just—well, for one thing, he was a gentleman...and a _tired_ gentleman at that. It doubled the efforts to stay sane. It was a point to consider!

Sakura, on her end of the line, was clearly oblivious. She cut off her own chuckles, snorted, and continued to try to sound nasty. "Well, thanks!" she spat.

But Syaoran hardly even heard her; he did not reply. She was surprised at the lack of comeback. It wasn't like Syaoran to be slow on smart-talking.

She waited until it was too late to put the quipping back on track, too late to break the silence that soon led them to an awkward lull, and then she had to shut up. The tricky period of quiet subdued her smile rapidly into nothing, telling her, nagging her to say something.

Slowly, the silence became deafening.

_Say something, Sakura. Say something._

She tried to talk, but what came out was a sigh. Terrific.

"So, what do you want now?" Syaoran murmured, breaking out of his own haven in another beautiful display of self-control, because, quite honestly, he was dangerously close to dropping the receiver and ditching her.

Sakura started a little at his voice. He sounded exhausted. A picture of him waiting impatiently, cross-legged, laid-back, and doubly tired, on a leather coach popped into her mind, as vividly as he had earlier imagined her. And, all of a sudden, she felt..._silly_. Feeling silly was not something she did often.

She inhaled. "Well, you see…tomorrow—" Then she stopped. _On second thought…maybe I shouldn't._

"What? What about tomorrow?"

Her next words were slow—too slow. "Well, she said. "I just thought that I could ask...what you're—" She broke off completely.

Syaoran was persistent. "Yes? You thought you could ask what I'm…?"

But Sakura had clammed up.

It wasn't much later before Syaoran became aware that a hot flush was most likely tinting her face. Small symptoms of her sudden, unexplained embarrassment flooded his senses, and an odd smile rose to his lips, marking his sudden interest. Call him sadistic, but he _was_ interested—very interested.

"Come on, say it," he goaded, now livelier. "What I'm what?" Of course he knew that it would be more agreeable to discontinue the topic. She was sincerely uncomfortable. Clearly, she wished he would stop—but it was all so _fascinating_!

Finally, he drew it out of her:

"What you're wearing tomorrow." Her voice was very quiet.

Syaoran's grin vanished.

Sakura cleared her throat, as though hoping that would somehow erase her words.

It didn't.

Another pregnant silence flowed between them, although the quality of tension now was far from similar with the one that had preceded it—that one had a where's-this-thing-going-anyway kind of tune to it. _This_ felt like a suicide attempt.

"Why do you want to know?" he asked, quietly but distinctly, a strained mix of sheer restraint and exploding anger. It chilled Sakura to her core. Suddenly, she wanted to fall on her knees and beg amnesty.

_I knew I shouldn't have gone through with it._ "I'm sorry," she said, lamely. "I shouldn't have said that."

"No, really. Why do you want to know?" Unchanging. Disturbingly quiet.

She tried to shake the topic off. "I don't! Not anymore. Forget it, I'm sorry—"

"Why?"

"Forget it, okay?"

"Why?"

"Stop it."

"_Why?_"

Sakura's guilt dug indefatigably into her intestines. He would stop at nothing to get his answer!

Defeated, she shrugged, and tried to say as nonchalantly as she could, "I was just wondering whether or not I could help you come up with something…decent…"

The moment the words were out, she wished she had had more will to deny him his answer. She wanted to whack herself. She'd lost him. She was so certain of it: she had _lost_ him. _Way to go, Sakura. _The weight of it crushed her—crushed her hard...

She braced herself.

"How long will it take me to get it through you, Kino? I'm not some plaything you can just push around!" he grated out. He sounded _seriously_ upset.

Slightly lightheaded on the other line, Sakura bit her lip, feeling something cold run through her veins. "I…" She imagined him on the other end, crushing the phone in hopes that the act would also crumple her out of his life. "I know," she said. "I said I was sorry for calling, and I meant it. It was stupid. I'm sorry, Syaoran-kun. I'm getting off the phone—"

"No."

And she held back, taken by surprise. "What...?" An absurd hope gurgled inside her.

"No," he repeated, a bit more calmly. "You're not getting the benefit of hanging up on me."

Sakura sagged. So much for hopes of forgiveness. She threw her chin out in a gesture that was partly pride-stimulated. Hearing him was starting to become torture to her conscience, and she wanted it to end as soon as she could. "Well then," she said. "_You_ get off the phone." She paused. "Please."

Syaoran sighed. She felt his exasperation spread through the phone line. "All right," he murmured. Then she heard the soft click of valediction and a series of empty beeps greeted her ear.

(CUT)

Syaoran slammed the phone down in fury. What a way to end a relentlessly hellish day: having the same person who had made his school year wretched so far trample his injured ego again—_for the nth time!_

_Are the gods testing my pride and patience? All the world wants them to break down! _

He let his head fall back into the plush cushion of the backrest, stuck again with a searing turmoil of thoughts and wanting to get out but finding no exit. He was tired, so utterly tired. Of everything.

The phone call flashed back to him.

He was nothing to her. After the favors and symptoms he had seemed to have mistaken for sincerity, he was still _nothing_ to her. There was no respect, no consideration, no regard for his humanness. He sucked in the frustration. After nearly a month of being with each other, nothing had changed!

_Hell. What did I expect anyway? Why should anything change?_

But he knew that was a lie. Even though they had never exactly enjoyed a few minutes together, it was still unrealistic to believe that nothing had changed between them after all the time that they had been forced to spend with each other. Seriously now, she _did _seem to have tempered down. He did not want to believe it himself, but it was true. Thus, he _had_ expected a change—at the very least earning a hint of respect.

But it was clearly a one-sided switch. That much was apparent to him now. The full impact smacked him between the eyeballs, carving a scar.

"_I was just wondering whether or not I could help you come up with something decent."_

_Damn_.

_The complacency of it…_

Syaoran shook his head, sighed in his savage recollections—the mental album that his high school life had made into a mud puddle. So much can happen in a day, so much—too much, even—yet at the end of it, he was just right back to where he began: nothing. Sakura had scored her bittersweet dent on his life, but he was still a sucker without Battousai shirts and those bloody baggy pants.

Syaoran hoisted himself off the couch.

So much for change.

(CUT)

The next day came with an increasing ache in Syaoran's head. He woke up with the dull pulsation already throbbing in his temples. His first words were choice curses in Chinese, and his first movement an instinctive massage to the temples.

Not quite as swiftly as he would have liked, he stepped into the shower and spent quite some time gazing raptly at the small, gurgling holes, willing them to drown his headache away. Without much success, he exited the bathroom and stumbled into a pair of pants that were displayed comfortably in his closet, infrequently worn yet eager to serve.

It had been given to him by Sheifa in the past Christmas, and he had never been much of a fan of it, seeing as she had mistaken his waistline for someone whom she expected would have grown to about that size after a few years apart. She was wrong. But Syaoran was in no mood to choose. His head continued to hammer, on and on until he popped his head through a printed shirt and jammed his feet into a pair of rubber shoes.

Absently stuffing a piece of toast into his mouth and pushing it down with a glass of juice, he exited the apartment, undeniably cross, but distracted enough from moodiness by the continuous thumping in his disheveled head.

"Are you okay, Syaoran-kun?" Sakura's voice was quiet when she approached him.

"I have a headache," he replied, truthfully.

Sakura saved him the effort of stammering through a verbal discussion of his health and her concern by not prolonging the topic. "Well, you…look nice today…" she said, clearly in an attempt to repair her insult the night before.

Syaoran was not moved. "Yeah, well," he muttered.

"How come you've never worn that pair to school before?" Sakura motioned to his pants.

"I did—once."

"Really?"

"Back in the good old days, when you hated me too much to look."

"Oh."

He moved off down the hall to his classroom, leaving her to walk away in the opposite direction.

(CUT)

Lunch time found him hiding his face in his arms on top his best friend, the school tree, trying to cure his headache with unimaginably slow progress, when the crunch of grass met his ears and made him snap to attention.

_Sakura?_

"Hi," Tomoyo's voice floated up towards him. His eyes shifted, and, unhurriedly, he made his uneasy scowl and her soft smile collide. "What's up?" she called.

He took several seconds to shift his head, lean back against the trunk, and sigh. "A lot of leaves," he replied, dismally. The response felt nice in his throat. It was good to go back to sardonic simplicity.

"Yeah, I thought so," she said.

He waited for her to say more, but she didn't. He stole a glance, looking to her for something to break the eerie silence. She met his eyes, but refused to respond with anything else but a smile.

"What's down there?" he finally said, a bit awkwardly. That made her giggle, and her giggle made him annoyed. "You can answer, you know," he called, but his weary voice did not do well with the imperative.

She stopped chuckling at the stiff reprimand. "Sorry," she murmured, though she maintained a smile.

Syaoran entertained the sound of a light scuffle and several short crunches before turning his amber eyes back towards his intruder. _What the…? _"What are you doing?" he said.

"Trying to climb up," Tomoyo briskly replied, as she made another attempt at raising herself up by way of a pathetic protrusion of a foothold that jutted out from the trunk. "Ngh." And she failed again.

He stared at her and allowed several more tries and several more attempts, and, finally, a very uncharacteristic, un-Daidouji-like curse before he shook his head. "Don't hurt yourself. Were you planning on a long conversation?"

"Well, I wanted to talk to you…"

"About what?"

"That's what I'll answer if I could manage to get up there."

Syaoran pushed back his loose bangs, pulled at his sleeves, pressed a hand against the branch, and swung himself off the tree. Pretending not to feel the jarring pain that twisted up his legs and brought his vision to blots for several seconds, he approached her.

Tomoyo again smiled. "That was cool."

He shrugged. "I don't think so."

"I do."

"Kino doesn't." He was not sure why he said that.

Tomoyo's ever-perceptive eyes told him she had ideas about it that he didn't want to hear. He studiously avoided her gaze, wishing she would leave.

She clearly had that part figured out too. "I won't leave until you talk to me, Li-kun," she said. She lowered herself to one of the crawling, fat roots and eased into a sitting position with her back against the trunk. She beckoned to him to sit somewhere near her with a vague hand gesture.

Syaoran refused to meet her eyes, but didn't resist the offering.

"You look good," she murmured, when he settled on the opposite side of the trunk, his back to hers, fat wood between them.

"Shocking," he muttered, trying to massage the pounding ache in his head away before classes resumed.

"Sakura..." Tomoyo began, after a length of silence. "She told me…about what happened last night…"

"Really?" he said. "Why?"

"She's feeling guilty about it." Tomoyo tried to steal a peek at him, but the trunk blocked her view. "She thinks she should apologize…again."

He shrugged. "She doesn't have to."

"She wants to."

_Yeah. Sakura Kinomoto. Wanting to apologize. To _me. "Right."

"She said so."

"Yeah?"

"This morning. Could you answer me a question, Li-kun?"

_No. _"What?"

She paused. "You were hurt, weren't you? About what she said last night."

The strangest thing that occurred to Syaoran at the moment was that he wasn't sure what to reply. 'Hurt' seemed so pathetic a word. Of course he wasn't _hurt_! "Not really," he said.

He heard a sigh. "Maybe you should forgive her, Li-kun," Tomoyo intoned. "She's really sorry."

"I know."

She disregarded the remark. "She _did_ care enough to be embarrassed about saying it, didn't she? She wanted to skip the topic so you wouldn't be offended..."

"That doesn't erase the fact that that's what she called for: to see if she could dress me up again today."

"Well, yes, but—"

"Who are you kidding, Daiouji? It was _there_."

"Right, and that's what hurt you most, right, Li-kun?"

He clenched his fists. His pride was turbulent. "No," he forced out. "I saw it coming."

"And you did not like it."

"Why should anyone?" It was an angry lash, slipping out without permission, more laden with embarrassing emotions than what appealed to his taste. He cursed himself silently.

_Yeah, I saw it coming_, he brooded. _At least, a week ago, I did...but...why do I feel like I hadn't prepared myself? Had I? Why am I still fighting it? Fighting the fact that I'll never be anything to her? _

Tomoyo allowed him that moment of privacy/torment before she spoke again. "Why did you think she wanted to know how you would look today Li-kun?" she asked, softly.

"Because that's all she cares about," he replied. It sounded automatic and sullen. He did not like sounding sullen.

"No, Li-kun," Tomoyo said. "She got excited."

"And why should she be?" His voice was contemptuous, another thing he hated sounding like. "We were just talking."

Tomoyo shook her head. "I didn't mean she got excited about the phone call. I meant she got excited about what happened yesterday."

"Right. The f*cking c_lothes_. There you go." The fact that he resorted to cursing betrayed just how bad he felt about the whole episode, and just how bad his head hurt. His voice seared with a pang that was bred from a strange and profound sense of reject in his chest and the words tasted bitter even to his senses. They were not the kind of things that he enjoyed speaking of. _But they're the truth, so just deal, Syaoran, all right?_

Tomoyo, from her side of the trunk, recoiled at his cussing. It took a while for her to gather herself for another attempt at calming down his temper. "I won't deny that the clothes were partly the reason why she got so excited," she said, her voice almost weakening with frustration. "But, you have to believe me, what she really appreciated was the fact that you looked so…wonderful. It was really amazing. You were transformed."

"Transformed?" he echoed. "Transformed into what? A human Barbie?" What was she trying to say? No matter ho she tried to euphemize, it would all be the same for him! Sakura liked pretty boys. He did not want to be one of her pretty boys.

Tomoyo bristled at his harshness. "Don't be close-minded, Li-kun!" she reprimanded, exasperatedly.

"And don't cover for her, Daidouji!" he returned, with much more vehemence. He stood up. "I don't care how good your crowd thought I looked yesterday. I know who I am. I don't need clothes to make you or Kinomoto see that. And no matter what you say, I know Kino just doesn't get it."

And he was gone.

(CUT)

TBC


	11. Apologies II

XI – Apologies II

"Awww...what you did to Daidouji was baaaad, Li..."

Syaoran stopped walking and groaned quietly to himself. His fists clenched. He didn't even have to turn around to know who had called him. It was all in the words, the voice, the intonation. "What do you want, Meiling?" he demanded, not even turning around to face her.

"Oh, I was just around," she replied, airily, her eyebrow crooked up high.

He snorted. "Tss."

But she was undaunted, not even disturbed. "Why, Li?" she smirked, cattily. "Do you think you're a big shot too, now that you've become Kinomoto's bodyguard? Do you think you now have grounds to prohibit me from walking where I want?"

Syaoran rolled his eyes. "Go talk to a wall, Meiling," he grated, dismissively, preparing to move off.

"Oh, no, that's okay," Meiling said. "A puppet's fine."

He halted, dead on his tracks. _Darn it. Darnitdarnitdarnit._ She hit him hard there, in all the wrong places.

Worse, she knew it.

"What? Weren't you about to go chase after her or something?" she said, red eyes narrowing at his back.

He turned around at last. "What's your problem?" he asked, his voice too calm, too quiet. His eyes pierced hers, intense, chocolate shards.

"I could ask you the same question," Meiling retorted. If she was in any way perturbed under his stare, which any normal person would be, she did well hiding it.

"You have no business asking me anything," Syaoran said.

Meiling only smirked wider. "You're blind," she intoned, in a very definite, very matter-of-fact way. "I never would have thought it, but you _are_ gullible."

Syaoran's headache slammed even harder against his temple. "Gullible," he echoed. It really wasn't the smartest reply. He kicked himself internally for it.

"Yeah well, you're not dense, so I think you know what I mean."

He turned away from her. "Bug off," he grumbled, his voice savage though faint. His throbbing head had hammered his appetite away ages ago. His conversation with Daidouji had worsened his headache. Sakura still waved incessantly in his mind. His nerves were all on edge, and he realized only then that his clothes were abnormally slack. He had forgotten to wear a belt.

He prayed for death.

As he walked off, his fingers again rubbing idly and uselessly against his sweat-dampened hairline, Meiling yelled at his retreating back. "They're playing with you, Li. Even you know it! Don't act all stupid and fall for it!!"

Syaoran never paused, never looked back. He needed time. He needed privacy. Would people just please leave him alone and let him solve his problems on his own!? Because anything otherwise would only make him want to jump off a cliff or hit his head against a wall to purposely gain amnesia. Just to end it. To escape. To just get away from it all.

(CUT)

"Life was pretty ugly this week, huh?"

He felt her sink down slowly, timidly on the opposite side of the bench, felt her eyes pass several times over his downcast head, drifting to and from her lap. He saw her fingers clench anxiously out of the corner of his eye as she braced herself.

He knew what was coming. He wasn't sure what he would say in response. He supposed it would come to him the moment he actually heard her. Maybe he wouldn't even have to respond. He was going to take this as uncomplicatedly as he could.

"Look, Syaoran, what you did to Tomoyo..." she began, tentatively. "She was just trying to help..."

A pause. "Yeah." Besides his lips, the rest of him didn't move.

Sakura nervously wetted her lips. "She asked me to apologize for her," she continued.

Syaoran, blissfully lax and off-guard, never even budged. "She's not here?" he murmured, in a voice that told her he couldn't really care less.

She shook her head anyway. "No. She said this was between the two of us, and besides, she didn't think you would be all that happy to see her."

"Right..."

After that, even Sakura was quiet.

It was one of those late Friday afternoons when the breeze hissed through the lethargic grasses and sifted tenderly between every quivering leaf and petal under the waning sun. It was hours past dismissal, and they sat under a weeping willow tree, on one of the hundred benches that littered the campus.

It was a meet that Sakura had set just that morning during Mathematics, by a hastily written note plunked casually onto his desk while the whole class cavorted for paper before a short quiz. He had not had time to decline, and, anyway, he doubted that he would have—not that he was all keyed up and on his toes to meet her.

In any case, it was thus how they found themselves where they were, on the extreme ends of a bench, with her shoulder just inches from the arm that he had draped over the backrest, the air tentative, the mood unsure.

"Syaoran-kun," Sakura started again, her voice an awkward whisper, almost drowning in the gentle rustles of the willow tree. "I'm sorry." _For the nth time._ "Really, I am."

Syaoran closed his eyes. "I know," he said.

"Yes, I know that," she bit out, in growing frustration. "I know you know."

He graced her with a glance. "And?"

"And I know that nothing Tomoyo said or any defense I can manage to cook up can actually excuse what I said. I didn't want to say it when I realized what it would mean to you, although...although it _is_ true that it was my prime objective from the beginning—"

"You mean had other objectives?"

Really. He was way too sharp for her taste. "Forget that, all right!?" she burst out. "Look. I know I was horrible for even thinking of calling you up for that reason, and I know you think I'm Ms. Insincere, but right now, Syaoran-kun, please believe me, I am sincerely sorry."

There was a slight pause before Syaoran shrugged. "You're not too horrible," he murmured, like she hadn't said anything else.

Sakura stared at him. He glanced back. When he gave no clue as to whether he intended to add to his response or not, Sakura gave herself up to exasperation. "Syaoran!" she groaned. "Please, take me seriously!"

"What do you want me to say?"

Sakura bit her lip. She was hurt now. She withdrew slightly in the hunch of her shoulders. Why did he have to make it so hard for her?

A few seconds passed before Syaoran heaved himself up from his languid posture, propped his elbow on his thigh and rubbed his forehead sketchily with his right-hand fingers. He exhaled, and a ghost of a grin that was beyond out-of-place formed on his lips. "You know," he said, turning his eyes to her. "It's not really a big deal."

"It's not?" she echoed, sounding like she didn't believe a word of it. Her eyebrow shot into her hair.

"Nope."

"But how could you say that—!?"

"Do you want to get this over with or not?" he demanded.

Sakura stared at him. And then burst out laughing. "You're really something, aren't you?" she said.

Syaoran shrugged, studying her eyes quietly for a few moments. Then, slowly, a distant look seeped into his gaze, as though some other thought was working its way into his brain. Sakura's eyebrows furrowed, watching him, watching as his grin evaporated and his bangs fell protectively over his eyes, watched as his attention gradually waned away, his gaze moving back into shadows, taking Sakura's smile with it. And when he yet again leaned back and threw his arms over the backrest, a deep sigh escaped him.

"What?" Sakura asked, confused, a hint of irritation leaking through her words. A moment ago, he had allowed her to presume that they could forget about the whole phone call thing, and now _this_. _What is up with this guy!?_

"It's not you."

Sakura turned her attention back to him, and, to her extreme annoyance, an almost-illusory grin was again on his lips, barely visible from under the steams of dark auburn hair. She had to scowl. What humor could he possibly find in tormenting her? He was _impossible!_

Syaoran had to grin wider, knowing quite accurately what she thought off him. It was highly amusing watching confusion flood her features. She looked tamer that way, somehow. _Besides, it's a nice way to forget...but then maybe I should let up for a while. She _did_ come this far to say sorry...not that I'm thrilled or anything or—_

_What the heck! When exactly did this stupid second voice in my head sprout up!?_

And so, in weak consolation, he placed his attention back on her and let her meet his rather lifeless eyes with her own. "It's not you," he repeated, magnificently hiding his inner battles.

"Who is it then? I mean—what?" Sakura demanded.

"Who."

"Who. Whatever."

"Nobody you're going to get too worked up about." He shrugged.

Sakura's defensiveness clicked into gear. "Well, she is if she's going to keep on making you glare and ignore me like that half the time I'm with you!" she burst out.

Syaoran smirked. "She?" he echoed. _What makes you think it's a "she"?_

Sakura faltered. "W—well..." she stammered. "Or he. I mean—" She saw the amusement spreading on his face.

"You mean what?" he challenged.

Sakura scowled. "Well, I'm guessing it _is_ a girl," she bit out, her voice defensive and daring him to say something about it.

He shrugged again. "Yeah, and so what about it?" He sparked another glance at her.

Sakura held up her hands. "Hey, she's your business," she said.

At that point, without even a last, clinching smirk, Syaoran gave up the game and became somber again. His voice was far from playful as he murmured, with clear displeasure, "She is."

Sakura felt that she had to leave the topic alone.

They sat in silence for several more moments. By then, the sky was painted red and gray, backgrounded by a fading darkening stretch of blue. The moon was already up, a fat half-moon, lazy and pillowed against the clouds, barely seen beyond the thick overhangs of the drooping willow tree.

Suddenly, Syaoran stood up. "It's getting late," he said. "You should go home." And he looked at her. Sakura actually caught her breath. His eyes were soft, the sunset glowing in his amber eyes. Maybe he put that expression on view intentionally, maybe not, but it did wonders for his features.

He _was_...attractive.

Sakura shook her head with a half-smile. There was no way that observation was coming out of her mouth. She stood up as well and faced him. "Yes, I suppose I should, seeing as you're so concerned," she said, making sure the tease came out just right, just the perfect tone of lightly mocking. "So, I'll see you around?"

"Yeah, I'll see you."

But neither of them budged.

A smile tugged at Sakura's lips. Syaoran was impassive, but defeat to a spreading grin also started to take over him. At long last, he gave in. He sighed, a trifle comically.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "What, are you going to play gentleman to me now, to make up for _everything else_ I went through with you?"

"No," he replied, solemnly. "I just think you can't handle yourself that well alone."

"It's nice to know you're so protective."

He had to admit she had him trapped there, though he would never admit it flat-out. He shook his head. "Come on," he murmured to her, playing a smooth smile of defeat on his lips. "I'll walk you home."

"Yeah, you do that."

And so he did.

(CUT)

"My goodness, look at them! Just _look_ at them!"

"Yeah. She's doing pretty well, isn't she?"

"Please. It's revolting!"

"Yeah, I suppose. But, you know, he does look kind of—"

"Don't you say it!"

"—Cute."

"Oh, shut up! Just because of last Monday, don't start swooning. Come on. Let's get out of here."

"What are you planning to do?"

"Quiet, I'm thinking! This has got to stop... Yes, this has _got_ to stop..."

(CUT)

"Arigato, Syaoran-kun..."

(CUT)

TBC


	12. Lunch

XII – Lunch

"Hello? Hello, Tomoyo-chan??"

"Yes?"

"Hey, it's me, Sakura!"

"Sakura-chan! You sound happy!" Tomoyo's eyebrow arched, knowingly. _Too happy. _"What's up?"

"Well..." Sakura dangled, loving her friend's quickness. She paused. How should she say it? "...I just came home!" The declaration came out as an overjoyed shriek. Her voice was a full opaque higher, giving the impression that home was a hard-won trophy or a jackpot lottery ticket.

Tomoyo's eyebrow didn't lower.

"Well???" Sakura pressed, her voice oozing with hints that were no good unspoken.

Tomoyo scowled. "You're supposed to give me more details!" she finally burst out.

Sakura pouted back, though a lot more coKaorilly. _Well, __I suppose nobody's _that_ quick. _She pushed more suspense into her voice: "Guess _who_ walked me home!"

At that, Tomoyo's eyes widened, brightened, all too rapidly. "Seriously!?" she exclaimed.

"Yes, seriously!" It was nothing short of a squeal.

"That is so fantastic!" Tomoyo shrieked. "I should have been there!" She didn't care if the whole mansion could hear her. Imagine! Her friend had managed to make Li Syaoran—that supposed unfeeling, unsociable, walking block of (very attractice) ice—walk her home! And under perfectly romantic circumstances on top of that: the sunset, a stroll, quiet streets, a newly repaired relationship... It was a scene in a movie!

"So what happened?" she demanded, her voice tingling with excitement. The questions came fast and hard. "How was it? You guys are really okay now? What did you talk about??" Maybe Syaoran slipped a few details about his life that made Sakura see deeper into his persona. Maybe Sakura saw through his coldness at last and decided to forego the dare. Maybe they actually managed to know each other further and now saw each other in a new light.

But then suddenly, Sakura stopped giggling, and didn't answer.

Tomoyo's smile faltered a little. "What?" she pressed, sensing the sudden awkwardness.

"We...didn't talk..." Sakura said it like she just realized it. "We were quiet all the way, until the end. Then I thanked him." A hint of insecurity seeped into her voice. "Tomoyo-chan, do you think that's bad?" she asked.

"Bad?" Tomoyo echoed, incredulously. "What's bad about it?"

"Well, I don't know why we didn't talk..."

Tomoyo considered it for a second. "Well, I honestly think you shouldn't worry so much. I think some things are better said unsaid."

"How do you mean, _said unsaid_? Are you reminding me of what I did to him last Monday again?"

Tomoyo smiled. "Of course not," she said. "I'm saying that silence..." _Can sometimes be more romantic than anything_. "...also speaks."

"Also speaks?" Sakura echoed, a hint of suspicion embedded in her voice. Something about the line made her feel uncomfortable.

"Yes," Tomoyo clarified, her smile radiating in her voice. "Silence also speaks."

Sakura's forehead creased for a second. _Silence also speaks?_ It sounded so cliché. "Ummm..." she murmured. "Well, whatever. Either way, I did it!" The radiance returned to her tones. "I pulled that off!"

Tomoyo would have laughed. If only Sakura was happy because of Syaoran's company and not because she'd pulled another fast one on him. But there was not much in the victory squeals filtering through the phone that could allow her to infer. _Perhaps tomorrow, her face will betray some hints..._ The thought sent a sweet shiver through her spine as Sakura drew her excited babbles to a close.

"I can't wait for Monday!" she said. "Can you believe that? I can't wait for a school day! So I'll see you then, Tomoyo-chan?"

"Of course. But don't you guys have plans for tomorrow?"

"Who? Syaoran and I?"

"Yes."

Sakura feigned offense. "Okay, I'm sorry if I'm too slow, but I'm working on it, all right?" she said.

Tomoyo laughed. "Right, of course. Well then, keep _working on it_, Sakura-chan. See ya!" And the line went dead with a click.

Sakura hung up the phone, suddenly pensive. She hadn't missed that last bit of irony Tomoyo had thrown her. "Keep _working on it_?" With that vaguely satiric stress? It didn't sound like an advice. It sounded...well, like a tease—an almost sarcastic one had it not come from such a gentle voice. Sakura _was _working on her relationship with Syaoran. What was that mockery for...?

Shrugging, she went happily back to her bedroom, wanting, again, to relive the sunset burning in Li Syaoran's eyes as he smiled at her on their doorstep.

(CUT)

"So I advise you to start writing your individual poems as early as now because I _know _most of you will have a hard time finishing a page-full of English verses," the teacher was saying, as she rearranged her glasses on her nose. She eyed the class critically, her cat-like eyes narrowed. "Copy the format on the board and make sure you include your name, class section, and date of submission. That's all. You're dismissed."

Syaoran gathered his things and, keeping a careful stretch of distance between him and the stampede of students bursting out of the room, he walked out into the hallway, musing to himself.

He walked Sakura home last Friday, and then spent all night that night remembering, that is, _wondering_ about it. She didn't call during the weekend, which was a huge relief...

"_Arigato, Syaoran-kun..."_

He tried not to relive the memory, but it stuck. Of course it would. That was the first time he walked a girl home, and it just had to be her. He did not want it to mean anything. Besides, that was also the first time he was stuck alone with a girl at sundown, so he never actually had the chance _not_ to do it for any other girl before. Since he did do it during the first chance that came his way, that meant that he would also do it the next time around that it happened no matter who the girl, right?

"Syaoran-kun!" that now too-familiar voice called to him just as he was inserting his books in his locker. Groaning inwardly, he braced himself. He did not want to hear her chattering about how he walked her home last Friday and yadda, yadda, yadda. People would definitely be listening and he had enough on his back as it is.

"Man, you took long!" she said, as she jogged up to his side. "Did you bring your lunch or are you buying a meal? Hurry up, come on!"

He blinked at her, trying to search her eyes if she had any plans of attacking the subject of their pseudo-"romantic"-ish episode last Friday. Nothing.

She raised her eyebrows. "What is it?"

Suddenly aware that he was staring, he shook his head and reached into his locker, feeling relieved. So she _could_ be kind when she wanted to be. How surprising.

"Come on, Syaoran-kun, speed up or the cafeteria's going to get jammed."

He took his bento box out of his locker as calmly and unhurriedly as he could and pleased, just for the fun of tormenting her.

She frowned at him. "I'm serious," she said.

He banged the metal door shut.

She smiled. "Okay, let's go." And she began to lead him deftly through the lunchtime crowds.

Syaoran found that it was easier to reach his destination when he was with her, because students just seemed to part whenever she was the one passing by. Before, he always had to get shoved a few times before he could go wherever he wanted to.

The door to the cafeteria was the bottleneck of a traffic jam when they arrived. Hungry students swarmed around it, pushing their way through in attempts to get to the food line. It was already quite long. The students who were lucky to be there early enough had the advantage of picking the best food before stock ran out. And the rest? Well, the rest were _most unfortunate_.

"Darn it all!" Sakura grumbled, stopping short a safe distance from the mob. "A jam!"

Syaoran just shook his head. "There's no way I'll go in there," he declared. "And, even if there's space, I will not eat with that little crowd of society girls. Let's go somewhere else."

"That little crowd of society girls?" she echoed.

Syaoran shrugged. "That's what they are."

Sakura pursed her lips._ "That." Hmm. "That" sounds good. A definite progress from "your" anyway._ Still, she was so eager to show Hayli and the others her hard-won and well-earned progress. She gave him an awkward glance. "Um," she paused. "Are you sure you don't want to try to check for some space in there?"

He pulled back upon seeing her expression, suddenly realizing he had been bossy. "Eh, well—I don't...but if you—look...I mean I'm not saying I _want_ you to eat with me—" He paused. That wasn't how he was supposed to say it. Defeated by his own unguarded mouth, he ended his speech in a rush: "...If you want to join them, go ahead."

"I'm not asking for your permission, Syaoran-kun," she said. "I'm asking you where you want to eat, if not in there." She jerked her thumb in the cafeteria's direction, smiling lightly.

Syaoran, highly uncomfortable with his own slips, put some more distance between his face and hers. "Well, there's this tree behind the school with branches big enough to hold two people," he mumbled. "Maybe more. It's clean there, so you needn't tell me your skin is too sensitive for it."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

He raised an eyebrow. "But you're a girl."

"Yes. So what?"

"Don't you hate stuff like that?"

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "Are you jumping to conclusions?" He blinked at her, and she slapped him lightly on the arm. "You sexist," she said, teasingly, and she began to walk away from the cafeteria to demonstrate her assent to his suggestion.

_This lunch period would be great, _she thought. _Just like last Friday. I wonder if 'Tou-san cooked my lunch. I remember his note on the fridge, saying—_

Then suddenly, she stopped. "HOE!" she cried, smacking her palm to her head. "I forgot! I was supposed to buy my lunch from the cafeteria today."

Syaoran's light inexpressiveness darkened several shades, his eyes darting quickly to the lunch line. Lunchtime would be over before they could even get to the front of it and, if by some miracle they would manage to, there wouldn't be anything left to eat! Well, nothing edible anyway.

He inhaled through gritted teeth. "Maybe you should have gone ahead and bought something before tagging after me," he said.

Sakura's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me? Tagging after you?? I'm not tagging after you!" she exclaimed, vehemently. He merely shrugged. Injured in the ego, she armed herself with a fresh batch of protests: she wasn't tagging after him! Of course not! Not even close! She was just...she was just...

"Never mind, whatever you say..." Syaoran waved his hand dismissively. He sighed.

Sakura withdrew. "Like I said..." she muttered instead, rather lamely. "I _forgot_."

"All right," he said. "Well, Wei packed me a big lunch today..." Actually, he didn't really know. His bento box felt as heavy as it always had. But, hell, if it would save him from the cafeteria, he was all for dieting. "If it suits you, we can..." He tried to find a less affectionate word for it—couldn't. "...Share..."

_...Geez, Syaoran! What the hell!?_

Suddenly, he was embarrassed again, and was forced to cast his eyes down. _Baka._

But Sakura's eyes only brightened, very, very visibly, confirming his worst fears. What a stroke of genius these rowdy high school students managed to execute by just running to the lunch line! She beamed, far wider than she expected, priding herself much for having elicited such an offer from him.

"Okay!" she assented. "That would be terrific, thank you. Lead the way!"

He looked uncertain for a moment, disconcerted by her excitement. He really hadn't meant to make her so _happy_. He flashed his eyes in her direction and appeared rather awkward. Sakura gave him a "well??" look. He almost scowled at her, but stopped short at the last second, thinking it would just encourage another smart-talking debate.

Thus, steeling himself, he at last led her through the hallways and out the door, taking her by the wrist roughly as they were forced to push through the ever-thickening crowds. He was oblivious to it, of course—that little skin contact. He would never do such a thing consciously, and she knew it, but Sakura was happy all the same.

(CUT)

She gaped up at it in a mixture of horror and incredulity. "You want be to climb _that_ thing?" she exclaimed.

Okay. The place was nice. It was fresh. Breezy. Spacious. Very peaceful. But the tree was, really, far too huge for her taste. It was _titanic_, or at least a little bigger than all the other trees in the campus. She couldn't believe she realized it was there only now.

"Well," Syaoran said. "I said 'tree' when I offered the place, didn't I?"

She gave him a look, which he took in stride with a grand display of indifference.

"The trunk offers enough leverage," he told her.

"Right," she muttered. "You're really serious about this, aren't you?"

"It's not like you can't do it."

She scoffed. "Well, thanks for the vote of confidence." She looked up again, and shook her head. "It's too high," she declared, decisively.

Syaoran raised an eyebrow, managing to look so naturally impish it was eerie. "It won't kill you," he said.

"No, just injure me for life," she replied.

"Please," he snorted. "If you do fall, the grass will do just fine as cushion."

"And you'll just stand by there?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Yes. And laugh at you."

She frowned.

He turned away to hide a smirk.

Sakura raised her determined scowl to the nearest and apparently her companion's favorite branch, sizing it up carefully. Syaoran smiled wider. She was _so_ predictable. _In five....four...three...two..._

"Fine!" she said at last. "I'll do it!" A pause. "But if I get hurt—"

"You'll break your neck and I can't do anything about it so you had better try your best," he finished.

It was a measure of how nervous she was when she didn't even give him another look. Gingerly, she picked a protrusion and hugged the trunk, mumbling incoherent questions and comments.

Syaoran shook his head. "I'll send you a get-well card when you get in the hospital," he said.

Embarrassed, she jumped away from the trunk, tossed her head back, and scowled viciously at him.

Now _that_ was fun.

(CUT)

"Okay, forget it, I'm sorry, I give up," Syaoran announced, about fifteen minutes later. "You _are_ hopeless."

Sakura, with a heavy sigh of mixed relief and frustration, flopped onto the grass, scowling. "Well, it's not like I didn't warn you!" she defended. She hugged her knees and glared up at the branch. "It's too high."

Syaoran flopped down beside her, flushed from effort and toting half a mocking smile. "Of course it's the tree's fault," he said.

"Shut up." And then she sighed, wearily. "So, did you break anything?"

For the past few minutes, not all that willingly, Syaoran had become delegated to cushioning her frequent falls and disastrous tree-climbing attempts, usually helped by grabbing at her flailing arms whenever she crashed down.

"Yeah, sure, no harm done," he muttered. "Maybe a fractured wrist, but that's not going to kill me."

She grinned. "That's tragic, Syaoran-kun." A pause, again. "Well, aren't you going to ask me if I broke anything?" she demanded.

He shook his head, very, very seriously. "I'm pretty sure you're a lot better off than I am," he said, solemnly. Before she could respond, he took his bento box from behind him and tossed it at her along with a pair of chopsticks. "Tuck in," he said. "And leave me some."

Sakura began to unwrap the bento box, and she started when something wrapped in foil dropped as she loosened the knot. "Hoe?" She picked it up. "What is this—?"

"AH!" It was a clear, panicked yelp that came out of Syaoran as he grabbed the piece from her hands. He flushed.

"What is it?" Sakura asked, surprised.

He flicked an embarrassed glance at her. "It's...chocolate," he muttered, quietly.

"Hoe?"

"Chocolate."

"But girls are usually the ones who like chocolates—"

"It tastes good." He denied the further heating of his cheeks. "And that's sexist."

Sakura laughed. "Well, you can have it all for yourself, if you like," she said, and she proceeded to open the bento box. Wei's cooking was such a feast that Syaoran wondered if the old butler knew he would be stuck sharing with Sakura that afternoon. The idea was too creepy to entertain for too long. "Wow, this is great!" Sakura praised. "_Itadakimasu!_"

She was about to pop a bite into her mouth when she stopped and glanced at him, then back to the food, then back at him. "You should have the first bite," she said, and, to his horror, she held the bite of sweet rice out to him.

He was so stunned and she was so open and inviting about it that all he could do was open his mouth and, when she deposited the excellently cooked rice, chew and swallow.

He wished Sakura wouldn't smile at him quite like that.

(CUT)

TBC

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'm actually not sure whether the blatant love for chocolates is also a dominantly female thing in Japan (my cultural background grants me limited images of straight guys going, "I looove chocolates" in all seriousness). In any case, I'd like to ask the favor that you take this story in those terms. For those who know, enlighten me though.


	13. Hayli's Proposal

XIII – Hayli's Proposal

_Valentine's Day's coming. The month of love—pfft. Please. It's not like a girl can just pick decent boys off a tree. I mean I thought I found one, but then, heck, did I really expect everything to turn out perfectly the first time around? Stupid girl…_

Her scowl deepened as she watched him reel back slightly from the revoltingly picture-perfect girl's little porcelain, cosmetics-caked face. A disturbing second or two passed before he forced his features into a frown and turned away, just in time to push back what she was certain had been a rising flush.

She rolled her eyes. Two months had passed since they started spending so much time with each other, and they were getting worse and worse, closer and closer to each other with every slowly passing day.

_Please, please, oh, please. This is _too_—_

"Cute...aren't they?" a voice suddenly spoke from behind her, slicing through her critical musings would-be sweetly.

Meiling turned around, her ruby eyes narrowed. She didn't like the fact that she had failed to detect her confronter prematurely, even though the said confronter _was_ alone (surprisingly). Being caught unprepared by a person that she extremely disliked was something that Meiling always strove to avoid.

"What do you want, Nachika?" she demanded, her voice dropping to a sultry growl.

Hayli's eyes batted. "Me?" she said, her eyes never matching her tone. "Oh. Well, nothing..." Then a cold smile carved itself onto her lips. "Just the same thing _you_ want, Meiling..."

(CUT)

"_Meiling…?"_

_She looked up, startled. _

_The older woman smiled at her knowingly._

_She flushed, flashing her infatuated eyes back to the boy who was her caller's brother. She looked up to the woman again, embarrassed and guilty. She had been glancing at him for nearly an hour now…_

"_Why don't you just approach him, Mei?"_

"_Approach…? Me? I…I can't…I…"_

"_Don't you want to be with him?"_

_The red eyes flashed. "Yes! But…" She turned her eyes back to the topic of their conversation, oblivious to her spying and steeped in his private world. "But will he let me…?" she whispered._

"_Well, it certainly won't hurt to take your chance, will it?"_

(CUT)

Meiling contorted her face into a vicious glare. "How could you possibly know what I want, Nachika?" she spat out, a bit more angrily than she had intended.

Hayli pouted and shoved herself a bit closer to the annoyed Chinese girl. "Hey, relax, Meiling," she purred. "Don't be so touchy. I mean you no harm!"

"It's more in the way that you're getting a little too close for comfort that I'm _harmed_, Nachika," Meiling replied. "So if you don't mind, I have better things to do than listen to you beat around the bush."

Hayli smiled wider. "Yeah, you always had such fire, Meiling," she commented. A brief pause. And then, suddenly, she turned serious, the smile vanishing from her face just like that, her stare suddenly dead and lethal.

Meiling's eyebrow shot up. She watched as Hayli, in that eternally-poised, mesmeric way of hers, swaggered a step past, her winged, doe eyes looking blankly ahead with a definite glint of dislike smoldering within the depths.

"I hate them," she hissed, after several seconds passed.

"Excuse me?"

"I hate them..." The brown eyes narrowed with a flare of infuRiation. "Just as much as you do."

Meiling stared at her, discerning the bitterness laced vividly in the words. Out of curiosity, she traced the direction of Hayli's pointed stare—and found the couple she herself had been eyeing before.

Her ruby eyes narrowed. It didn't make sense. Wasn't that Kinomoto this cosmetics-caked prick's best friend? "What're you getting at, Nachika?" she demanded.

Hayli smiled wryly. "Right," she said, turning back. "Getting down to business."

Meiling resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _Welcome to the realm of the drama queen..._

"Okay, here's what's up, Li," Hayli announced, cutting off Meiling's internal disparagements with an air of self-importance. "I would never want to tell anyone this, of course, so consider yourself privileged, but Sakura is getting _way_ over my head. So way up, she's gone far out of reach—_not_ that I feel like reaching for her if you know what I mean. Really. I just want to drag her down a bit. Back to earth, you know—the way _you_ also want her to. I got that right, yes?"

Meiling stared at her. "If you're trying to prove something, you better back that up," she said.

Hayli smirked. "Of course. It just came to me, Mei, that since we seem to be on the same side of this whole revolting affair, what with you and that thing you have going about Li Syaoran and yadda, yadda, yadda, hating Ms. Blossom and all, I have a proposal for you..."

Meiling could swear she saw something glint in Hayli's eyes—a spark, golden and vicious—and she stared, almost curious. But a split second later, her eyes passed over the deviously curved lips, and she decided she wouldn't like the drift of the conversation.

"Forget it," she spat out acidly, before Hayli could even voice her proposal. "Leave me alone, Nachika." And she turned to walk away.

Then, all of a sudden, the weirdest sensation she had ever experienced before in her life held her fast when suddenly, Hayli's ice-cold, polished fingers grabbed her wrist and locked on.

(CUT)

"_Ahh—!"_

_She was falling....falling—_

"_Careful!"_

_And she found herself upright again, a softly callused hand gripping hers._

"_Thanks...for pulling me up."_

"_Yeah."_

_She searched his face for sentiments, a smile maybe, but saw nothing but shadows._

(CUT)

"Wait."

_Huh? For what?_

And the past blended back into Hayli's white-powdered face.

_Damn._

"What!?" she demanded, barely able to stifle her panic. She turned her red eyes violently back to meet her confronter's, putting up extra defenses when she realized she had been caught off-guard and reliving a fragment of her past.

Hayli, however, was clearly unperturbed, though her eyes hardened slightly. Her grip refused to loosen. The wry smile on her face vanished. "Hear me out," she ordered more than asked.

Meiling's eyebrows furrowed. She jerked her hand from Hayli's grip and mustered a look of semi-disinterest. "Get it over with, and hurry up about it."

"Of course." Hayli relaxed and straightened up. "Now listen carefully. I don't like saying things twice because I have so many other things to do but then you're in my priority list so—"

"Cut to the point," Meiling interrupted.

Hayli gave her an ugly look.

"Well?"

"Well, I'm not done talking!"

"Then get going already!"

"Fine, just keep them away from each other!" Hayli burst out at last, her pale face flushed in indignation. "That's all there is to it! Just keep her from getting to me! Keep Syaoran off the social ladder! Get them both away from my reputation—from _us_, Meiling, from our absurdly suffering nerves!" She threw up her hands and rolled her eyes extravagantly.

"They are _so_ overdoing this thing. He might as well just get down on his knee and propose marRiage. Honestly. They should get a room! Get laid! It's not like it _won't _happen. Why don't they just get it over with? Look, Sakura actually _transformed_ that piece of rock, it's absurd! If she gets her way with him, she'll have a hot and sexy hermit and I'll be humiliated in front of the group—which wouldn't leave me anything!" She stuck out her chin arrogantly. "That sort of thing _cannot_ happen to _me_."

Meiling stared at her as she finished her almost coKaorilly melodramatic speech. Strangely enough though, one phrase stuck to her mind: _Sakura will have a hot and sexy... _The words gnawed at her. The rest faded away. _Hot and sexy__._

(CUT)

_The sad, infinite eyes were downcast once again._

"_Hi. Ummm. Is anyone sitting here...?"_

_He looked, no, glanced. Shook his head slightly. "No."_

_She made herself comfortable on the seat and proceeded to watch him with frequent glances. _

_It was a celebration of a new year, but he was still as lifeless as ever, as apart from the rest of the colorful Chinese crowd as he had always been. And those eyes..._

"_Come on, little brother, you're such a party pooper! Dance with me!" An older girl lanced through Meiling's quiet and content observing. The sister grabbed his hand._

_He protested violently, but could not escape her enthusiasm as she happily dragged him away..._

(CUT)

"So what do you say?" The thick-lashed brown eyes came back into view.

Hayli. Of course.

That was only when Meiling realized she had been immobile since several seconds ago. The tension of the unmoved glare-swapping continued to hound the silence. She honestly didn't know for how long they had been stuck in that tableau.

Then the haughty proposal came back to her, and her glare regained fire.

Moments passed as they sized up each other's faces, looking for answers, for motives, explanations, debating, wondering, sizing up their options…

"You'll think about it," Hayli said at last, seemingly fed up. She turned to go. "I'll see you later."

Slightly startled at the abrupt postponement, Meiling struggled for a comeback, but missed her chance by a second when the doll of the in-crowd slipped quickly away and left her.

(CUT)

She came face to face with him after classes, as he stepped in from the gym and passed by her locker.

"Hey," she said, coldly.

He met her eyes and paused in stride, though it seemed to her an involuntary reflex. She liked the effect. "What?" he said, probably realizing that it was too late to ignore her.

"Where's Kinomoto?"

"You shouldn't care."

"But don't _you_?" The words sounded too cynical even to her ears; it was an impulse that she hadn't yet learned to tame. She watched the anger shift his features.

"Maybe," he said, purposefully to get on her nerves, because, suddenly, he knew it would. "But why would you want to know that?"

The question almost caught her off-guard, but her scowl loyally stuck on. "Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if you'd want to walk her home and all. She's touching up her makeup."

"Well, thank you, I'll go look for her," he replied, sarcastically, and with a last glare livid enough to freeze fire, he moved away.

(CUT)

_She saw him nod at the elders and felt her fingers crush the peonies she had picked that afternoon._

_Why did he have to go...? There was no reason good enough._

_He didn't even know her..._

"_You okay?"_

"_Yeah...fine, thanks."_

"_It's so far from here. H ow could he get through it?"_

"_He will...he can...I know it…"_

(CUT)

Meiling's mask melted with every step Syaoran took away from her—softened slowly to a somber frown. He was certainly strong, certainly an Individual. He had such strength to hold out against the pressure, the stereotyping...

She caught her eyes narrowing again as familiar thoughts of that childish, emerald-green whirlwind named Sakura re-invaded her head. Why? How could he stand someone like her? She was such a fraud. She was far too noisy, too bubbly, too sassy. How could he stand her...?

Sakura's face winked cutely at her in her mind, and she wished with her whole being that she could escape herself, but the beautiful, dancing, honey-haired heartbreaker still invaded her.

She watched the last of Syaoran's damp shirt disappear around the corner, wondering why, why, why? Why her...?

"_I'll go look for her."_

Meiling's lips tightened at the memory. He _had _to be kidding. The question of his destination was an intensely vexing irritant, because, damn it, would it really be Sakura...?

(CUT)

The ceiling of her room wasn't a pleasant place to lose herself in with her current mood. It was too empty, not even a lizard crossed its length tonight. It gave her too much space to think, and it wasn't infrequent that her thoughts plunged her deeper into moodiness.

She loathed moodiness, but she was prone to it.

_Syaoran._

Keep him and Sakura apart. That was all Hayli asked of her. She had the power. She could tease him and torment him and stalk him until he would give in and stay away from the emerald-eyed doll just to appease her antagonism.

"But for what? He'll despise me even more then." _And I don't want him to despise me. Not really. Plus, Mom and the elders wouldn't be happy with me..._

Sakura had something up her sleeve. Even Hayli betrayed it when she explained her plot that afternoon—if Sakura had her way with him, Syaoran would be...

That meant Hayli must have put that Sakura girl up to it somehow. It was implied in there somewhere.

Meiling groaned. Why did that Li Syaoran have to go and give that fake-faced Kinomoto a chance anyway? He had gotten along perfectly well without her before.

Truthfully, she had rather enjoyed his fresh, rugged look with the katana-toting swordsman polo, but they were getting too close for her own comfort, and the sharp stabs of resentment were hard to ignore.

She was going to hurt him. She had to hurt him.

"But he'll never give me the time of day if I try to jump in on this..."

_What can I do...? What should I do...? Am in a position to try and save him from her...? But I don't want to risk his possibly eternal anger on me...because I... _She closed her eyes to silence the thought.

_I just couldn't._

(CUT)

"_It won't be forever," he said would-be sourly at his loving relatives, wiping off a kiss mark stamped on his cheek from one of his aunt's lips. She knew he was just being shy though, and trying to hide it._

_She didn't approach him, because he couldn't acknowledge her._

_She wished she had had the nerve to at least introduce herself before, but her courage had always failed her._

"_Goodbye," he bade once again._

_His family echoed him. His siblings shrieked blessings. His mother gave him another infrequent kiss. He flushed, hid under his hair, and then turned his back on them._

_She wanted to run and go with him, or at the very least give her his name so he could remember her, maybe give him one of the handkerchiefs she had embroidered as something he could bring to remember her by..._

_But there was nothing to remember. They had never had a past._

_She watched him board the car and try to wrench his eyes away from the crowd seeing him off...then a miracle happened: he glanced at her. It was accidental, but it lasted for several precious seconds that she tried to prolong, never breaking off, until the car had gone and she couldn't even see him if she tried._

(CUT)

The echoing clicks of her stilettos on the damp bathroom tiles and an overwhelming wave of sweet perfume introduced her approach. Meiling rolled her eyes. _Here goes._

"So..." Hayli murmured, one penciled eyebrow already arched. She leaned against the sinks. "Have you decided?"

Meiling glanced at her through the mirror. "Yeah," she replied, deftly twisting the right half of her hair up into a knot and securing it with a thin sash. She assessed the effect in the mirror, but decided it didn't work for her. She pulled off the ribbon and again ran a brush through her tresses.

Hayli frowned, realizing that Meiling had no intention whatsoever of telling her an answer anytime soon. "Well??" she demanded.

"Well what?"

"Well, are you doing it or not?"

Meiling caught her hair into a topknot, but let it drop without even looking at the effect with a sash. With a soft groan of frustration, she replied, "Nope."

Hayli's winged brown eyes widened. "What!?" she exclaimed. "Why not?"

"I have better things to do than make favors for people I hate," Meiling answered, with the same nonchalance, still intent on her own reflection though vaguely reveling in Hayli's disappointment. Her hair just wouldn't work with her today! Fed up, she pulled it into a ponytail and secured it with the sash, resolving not to touch it anymore.

She glared into the mirror, wanting to at least like herself enough to get herself through the day without much fuss. She tended to be fussy on bad hair days.

Then she blinked, surprised at herself. Strangely enough, her reflection satisfied her now.

_How odd._

Hayli huffed, catching Meiling's attention again. Her eyes were dark; the tight line of her lips betrayed that she was terribly upset; the setting of her jaw said that she didn't want to show it.

"It's your loss, Li," she hissed, her tone vicious.

Meiling rolled her eyes. "Look, if you want something done, Hay, do it yourself. All right?" And she left.

(CUT)

_She was going. Her chance was there, gaping at her..._

"_You better be careful, Meiling okay?"_

_She nodded, impatient to get onto the plane. "Yes, Ma, I promise."_

"_And never forget your duties. Don't let the elders down."_

"_Yes, Father. I know."_

"_Uncle Kai will be with you on the first week. Rai will assist you during your whole stay. Watch him carefully, Meiling, you know the purpose of your trip. Bear it in mind always and report everything you know to the elders..."_

"_...As agreed on. Yes, Father, I won't forget it."_

"_Remember, it's for—"_

"—_The sake of the clan. I know, Mother...I'll be all right. I promise..."_

(CUT)

Meiling sighed. It was true. She _was_ all right. That is, until Sakura came...

TBC


	14. Caught in the Middle

XIV – Caught in the Middle

Meiling breathed deeply as she held the phone to her ear and courteously released a hello. "Ni hao. This is Meiling speaking," she said, her voice a slightly wavering flow of a language that she hadn't used for some time.

"Yes, Meiling. How are things?"

"Oh, they're…" She paused. _What things? Japan is good. School's okay. Syaoran is crazy. And I'm miserable. What things?_ "They're alright."

"Good. And how is _he_?" The rigidity of the question thrown at her in regal Chinese pushed her heart a few beats faster.

She always did dread these monthly calls. They were always so awkward, and she never knew how to say things without embarrassing herself. Her own feelings tortured her in delineating which opinions to mention, how much to say, and most of all, how to say them.

Like now.

"He's alright, ma'am," she lied. Then she caught herself and shook her head. She was on a mission. This matter, though it was extremely delicate, still concerned the clan. _It's your job to mention it, Mei!_ "Although he does…" She paused again. "I mean…I suppose it's not relevant…"

She heard a disapproving sigh on the other line and blanched. "Please, Meiling," the serene voice exhaled. "If it's about Xiao Lang, then it's relevant. Say it."

_Yeah, Mei, say it!_ "He just…he's changing…" she murmured.

She could almost feel the eyebrow cock. "Changing? In what way?"

"I mean, he's…more _sociable_ now."

"Oh? Is that such a bad thing? Can you elaborate on that?"

"Well…he spends more time with…fien—that is, _friends_ now…"

"Ah. Girls or boys?"

_Neither. It's girl. Just _one_—singular. _"Both, I suppose, though some people—I guess? In particular? Maybe?—fancy being around him…?"

"Oh. Well, teens will be teens, right?"

"Right. Everything…" _Sucks_. "…is normal enough."

"Good. You'll call me if anything arises, won't you?"

"Yes. Of course, ma'am."

"Thank you." And the line went dead, leaving Meiling to collapse on the couch.

She didn't hang up the phone, though, just left it to blare out the annoying beeps, then lapse into silence eventually.

The guilt tugged at her insides. She'd lied, that was for sure, but then there was no proof that Syaoran had really fallen for that annoying fraud, Sakura. Besides, what was the point of hurting herself and causing a riot in the clan by mentioning a yet unproven (and dangerously emotive) observation? Nothing! She had done no mortal sin, at any rate. She would only be exaggerating if she mentioned it...right?

Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the phone tighter. It was quiet now, and she could hear her own uneven heartbeat.

_No, Mei…_ she whispered to herself, hating the pain that gnawed at her heart. _Soon enough, you won't be…_

(CUT)

"Don't you think you should add some more parameters to this thing, Hayli?" Mia hissed, watching Sakura from Hayli's locker as she sashayed with Tomoyo to ambush the newly dismissed Syaoran, who was just stepping out of his class. "I mean…look at _that_. Hey, I know you're evil and all, but are you sure you're still confident about this? Especially since Meiling skipped out on the deal so there goes Plan A. Given that, it's kind of…possible now, you know—hey!"

She reeled back from the locker as Hayli banged its door shut with a vengeance that only a spoilsport could muster. Her lips were tight as she pierced her friend with a well-practiced glower. "Shut up," she commanded.

Mia rolled her eyes. As one of the more fiery members of their crowd, she was far less easy to intimidate, and therefore had the license to pull Hayli's leg sometimes. She tasked it upon herself to bring her snobbish friend back to Earth at times needed. This was one of those times.

"Come on, Hay…" she pressed on, completely undeterred. "You could throw in a kiss or something. You know—"

"Please...you _are_ an amateur, aren't you?" Hayli cut off, icily, with a bad attempt at nonchalance. "Telling her to do that would mean my first sign of defeat. Can't you see she'll just know I've considered she'll win? She won't take it seriously. Duh. You want me to suffer through that, Mia?"

"Yeah, yeah, point taken." Mia scowled. "So what exactly are you planning to do? Lose?"

Hayli released a short, unhappy laugh. "No!" she snorted. "That's the last thing on my mind."

"Well, if you're not gonna do anything..."

"Oh, hush up, Mia!" Hayli dismissed the topic with a well-exaggerated turn away from her friend. "I'll think of something!" And she stalked off, betraying only to her unconvinced friend that she was more out of ideas than ever before.

_Well..._ Mia figured, a smirk beginning to bloom on her face. _Desperation can do wonders for a deflated, wayward ego..._

And she went to follow her haughty friend down the hallway.

(CUT)

Syaoran groaned again at the annoyingly blinking red light on Tomoyo Daidouji's video camera. "Don't you ever let go of that thing?" he asked, his tone more than a little bothered.

Tomoyo grinned. "I just like to keep memoirs, that's all, Li-kun," she replied, cheerfully.

Syaoran tore away, very much _not_ overjoyed._ Kami-sama. One girl hanging out with me I can endure, but two _glued_ to my sides...and one with a camera no less! How had I _ever_ let this fiasco come to this point?_

Sakura smiled at him, doing nothing at all to ease his situation. He groaned. "So where do we go?" she now asked, brightly. "Do you guys wanna eat?"

"No," Syaoran quickly replied. The thought of his face chewing away on somebody's videotape didn't exactly excite him. "Not yet, thanks. I'll pass on this one." He turned his gaze away.

It had been a few days since he had been with Tomoyo and Sakura at once. He had never liked being sandwiched with the two of them, because in the first place, he could never be as free as he liked. Tomoyo always had that stupid camcorder, and Sakura was always too dense to tell her to shut it off. Besides, being with them attracted stares from the other students, and he never was the best with handling unwarranted attention.

"Come on, Syaoran-kun," Sakura now joined in, one hand automatically squeezing at his shoulder, a reflex that he noticed she had recently started to develop. "Our lunch period schedules differ today so it's best if we do this now."

_Wha—?_ Syaoran stared at her, suddenly startled. _What did she say? Schedules? _Our_ schedules? Wait a minute...since when did Sakura start thinking we should spend at least a fraction of the day eating with each other? I never signed anything that said it was compulsory. What made her think we should make it some kind of daily habit—?_

He stopped, almost shuddered, at the thought. Only couples made eating together a daily habit—not old enemies learning to tolerate each other!

Well! Had he _tolerated_ her to the extent that he accidentally allowed her to think _that_? No, he would never—not on purpose. He hadn't left any part of himself unguarded enough for that. It wasn't in his nature to be unguarded. He was _always_ guarded. Always ready.

_But if you're so guarded_, _then how in the world did you fail to notice how she had slowly inserted herself into your schedule to become practically a part of it?_

_What? Me, fail to notice? You kidding? I did notice! _I DID—

_Oh, then why did you let her sift right through your walls if you were so _aware_?_

Syaoran felt the wheels in his head jam.

"Well?"

He crashed back to the present. Inquisitively, reality blinked at him—with bright emerald eyes.

"Come on, hurry up!" Sakura said.

"Uh...what?" he stammered. "Oh...no, thanks, I..." _What was the drift of the conversation again?_ _Ah, yes! Food! _"I don't think my appetite's up for that. But if you want to go and eat though, be my guest. I'll just be arou—"

"Aw, come on!" Suddenly two pairs of hands were on him. "Just be with us!" Tomoyo cajoled, and she held up her camera and aimed it straight at him.

Syaoran reeled back—then Sakura's sweet, glossed smile was inches from his face. He froze.

_So close…NO!_

"I'm not hungry!" he burst out, loudly. In surprise, they broke away from him.

After a moment of quiet, Sakura drew a small smile that came out lopsided. "Hey," she said. "You don't _have_ to be hungry, you know. It's just hanging out."

"No, it's all right," he maintained. "I'll pass…"

Tomoyo sighed. "Li-kun, come on. What's the matter?" she asked, her purple eyes frustrated behind her camcorder. Wasn't it only last week that he and Sakura shared lunch from the same bento box? Why was he still so uncomfortable? She wished he hadn't picked today of all days to act so withdrawn. This was her chance to tape them up close!

Unfortunately, Syaoran still didn't look so convinced. In fact, he looked far from pleased. "Can't you ever put that off, Daidouji?" he growled at her through the lens.

"Huh? Put it off? But—oh! I see!" she exclaimed. "So this is the problem!" Tomoyo felt her shoulders sag. No. He couldn't ask her to put it away...

Sakura blinked. "It is? Why?" She looked towards Syaoran, who promptly turned away. It was a dense question to ask. She knew that from the look on Syaoran's face. "Ummm. Tomoyo-chan...?" Sakura said, slowly, almost sheepishly, awkward with her sudden role as a pacifist. "Maybe, you know, you could...?"

"Yeah..." Tomoyo sighed, and her arms dropped to her sides. The red light dimmed. "All right," she exhaled.

"Good." Sakura smiled. "Now that that's done, let's get going."

"Yeah."

"No, wait—"

"Well, well, well..." The tap of two-inch doll shoes introduced her arrival as she strutted in from her latest trip to the bathroom. A characteristic snide smile curled her lips as she looked the trio up and down. "So, how are you guys?" Nachika Hayli asked.

Sakura rolled her eyes, suddenly cold. "Oh, we're fine, Hay, thank you," she staged, with her old, aloof smile. "And you? How have you been?"

"Perfectly alright." Her brown eyes swept towards Tomoyo with a halfhearted glimmer of hello, then shifted to Syaoran. "Good morning, Li," she said, rather stiffly. "Where are you guys off to?"

Syaoran, catching her fakeness perfectly and loathing her for it, was indifferent in replying, his tone unwelcoming. "Nowhere. I was just leaving—" he said, coldly.

"Yes, for recess," Sakura cut in. "With us." Meaningfully, she moved closer to him.

His eyes narrowed slightly at her, not failing to notice the assertiveness. Even from her, it was an unnatural movement. Her fingers clenched, and he realized she was tense. His eyes narrowed even more. _Why should she be? What's going on? The hostility's almost visible._

The plastic smirk on the doll's face tightened. That he noticed as well. More questions. "Oh?" she said, dripping sadism, and then she met his eyes. "Were you, Li?"

_Huh?_ He looked at her. When exactly did she start caring if he went anywhere with Sakura?

Then he realized Hayli was challenging him through icy brown eyes: _"Prove Sakura wrong."_

True enough, he _had_ been planning to say no, but he had a sudden suspicion that doing that would make the snobbish girl feel very happy indeed. He did _not_ want to make Nachika Hayli feel happy. Then he looked towards Sakura. It was apparent in her green eyes that she desperately wished him to side with her, to confirm what she had just declared, that he was about to go with them. His mind clicked into overdrive.

Something did not feel right.

"No," he stated, experimentally. He watched a flicker of satisfaction pass over the brown eyes. It was expected, but unwanted. He felt Sakura's spirit drop. "...We were going to the library to do some research."

Sakura suddenly brightened.

Syaoran watched the satisfaction in Hayli's eyes dissolve into anger then quickly be smothered by a widened smile. "Oh, okay, then!" she covered for herself, quickly—too quickly. "So I suppose I couldn't disturb you for a drink?"

Sakura sounded jubilant. "No, thank you, Hay," she said, sweetly.

"Right. Well then—later."

Even as she left, Syaoran didn't feel less unsettled.

(CUT).

Afternoon. Another walk home. Another fifteen minutes until they got to the crossroad. Syaoran was pensive. Sakura felt disconcerted. His silence didn't feel natural, unlike usual, when he simply relished the quiet and she let him in peace. She had learned to give him his moments, and she knew it was one of the things that made him tolerate her—perhaps even like her. Sakura smiled at the thought _I suppose to be liked by the cold Li Syaoran really wouldn't be so bad._

He stepped on plastic cup; it cracked loudly, but he didn't even flinch.

"Hey," she said. "You okay?"

"..."

"Recess was fun, huh? I didn't know the library could be so peaceful…"

"Ah."

She stopped. Another long pause. One more minute wasted in uncomfortable quiet. "Syaoran-kun," she started again.

"Kino."

She slowed her pace. The crossroad was five minutes away. "Yes?" she said.

"What happened during recess..."

"What about it?"

She looked at him. Their eyes met: inquisitive emerald and thoughtful, contemplative chocolate. It was then that she suddenly realized that he was bothered, and what bothered him apparently involved her. "Syaoran-kun, what is it?" she asked, now a bit apprehensive. The theatrics in his gaze were unnerving.

He stopped walking. "There was something there," he said.

Sakura's heart banged against her chest. "What something?" she stalled. It did not take a genius to see that the confrontation had been filled with tension. All she could think of at that time was showing off to Hayli, and it had completely torn her apart when he first said they weren't going to recess together. The relief that flooded her with the trip-to-the-library lie had gotten her through the day with a smile.

She never asked him why he did that though: lie for her.

She had a feeling she would soon know.

"Why have you drifted from Hayli?" Syaoran asked, demanded almost. "They used to be your friends."

Sakura's answer was calculated, though nonchalantly delivered. "They were never my friends, Syaoran," she said. Vaguely, as she stalled for more time so she could think up excuses, it occurred to her that thoughts of the in-crowd had escaped her in the past few days.

Syaoran, of course, didn't look convinced. Even if she never told him that she had unofficially separated from the group to take on a dare, or that she had separated from them at all, it was clear that her airy retort wouldn't convince him of anything, or make him leave the subject alone.

"Why didn't she want me to go with you?" he pressed.

Sakura's heartbeat quickened even more. "What made you think that?" she asked.

Syaoran rolled his eyes. "You said we were going to recess, and then '_Oh, were you, Li?_'" he mimicked, perfectly capturing Hayli's voice enough to get Sakura smiling. But the return of the seriousness in his amber eyes stopped her from joking.

She sighed, consciously feeling the numb throbbing in her chest. "Look, Syaoran. We had a little...a little rift in the group. Hayli was just being a jerk. Forget her."

"Why did she want to embarrass you?"

"How did she try tried to embarrass me?"

"I was caught in the middle there, Kino!"

Sakura felt her mind blank. She knew that he knew now that she was just stalling for time. But what could she tell him? He was so sharp, so smart. For a moment, she almost considered telling him everything.

_No! _her mind yelled. _That would only provoke his anger. Don't make him angry at you, Sakura. Don't. He doesn't deserve it..._

Suddenly, another voice sprouted up in her mind, one that she hadn't heard for the longest time. _What are you talking about? _it shrieked. _He doesn't deserve it? Don't say it now because your reputation will be crushed, remember? No other reason! What have you ever cared about his anger and what he deserves?_

"Syaoran. It was nothing. Just a misunderstanding between us. She...said things, and I...I don't want to hang out with her again just yet..."

"Ah..." He was unconvinced.

Sakura's mind was suddenly in shambles, so she was thankful that he didn't speak anymore until they came to the crossroads.

"See you tomorrow, Syaoran-kun," she murmured.

He paused, a long, tense pause. "You know," he said, in a voice that was not at all condescending or incredulous. "If she had wanted to embarrass you, she would have just said that you're hanging with heap crowd like me." Another pause wherein she didn't attempt to contradict him. He shrugged. "I just wonder why she didn't."

Sakura felt torn. "Don't mind her..."

_You don't deserve to mind her...you don't deserve any of us..._

"See you tomorrow."

(CUT)

TBC


	15. Downpour

XV - Downpour

Syaoran heaved his backpack onto his shoulder, sighing. Drained. After a long session of poem analysis on one of Shakespeare's sonnets, English class had ended with a gut-twisting reminder from their sensei that they had better get started on their pure-English poems.

_And for good reason_, Syaoran thought, sullenly. _I haven't even mastered the Japanese language yet and now I have to take on English. I mean, come on, I know a little, but not enough to create a halfway-decent poem. I don't even have an idea on what my subject will be..._

"Heh. How about confusion?" he muttered to himself, wryly, only semi-sarcastic as a fraction of his mind actually agreed with the suggestion. _After all, it would be easy to express given my situation... _Then he scoffed. "Yeah, right, Li. Sure it's easy. Easy in Mandarin."

He shook his head. Seriously, he should get started soon. The pure English poem was hardly a project he would want to fail, especially because the teacher side-commented that it would take up a large fraction of their final grades—and he _needed_ good grades. He couldn't fail his mother and the rest of the clan by looking like a stupid transferee when he got home.

Syaoran sighed. Perhaps he should stop by the library and start doodling out a poem. He can just translate it when he was done. Of course, he would still have to strive to perfect the lines and prevent inexcusable grammatical errors upon its translation, but then, he figured if he started early, maybe he could also finish early.

Heavy-hearted, he trudged through the halls and steered himself into the well-lit, not-so-populated school library. That was the only comfort in staying there: few people dropped by. Nobody wanted to stay in a place where they were prohibited from making noise. High-school students were _addicted_ to noise.

He traveled to the farther side of the library and sat himself on a chair located near the window. The skies were grayish today and covered most of the cheery old blue.

_How comforting,_ Syaoran thought, wryly.

Consoling himself with the only positive thought of writing in his native kanji, he took out his notebook and a pen and doodled mindlessly. After all, the sensei had said something about free writing: "Just jot down anything that comes to mind and you will find your subject." Something like that.

And so he did.

Chinese characters flowed from his ink…random lines…little quotes…lyrics from songs that popped in his head…names…some dates…and even a small, terrible caricature of the libraRian smiling sweetly…then a stern libraRian asking for library cards…then an angry libraRian screaming for quiet—

Syaoran stopped; stared at his paper in disdain. What was he doing? They were all senseless words. Senseless pictures. Senseless doodles with no hint of direction whatsoever!

He groaned. Maybe he really should try confusion as a subject. It was easily accessible given his current sentiments anyway. But really now, to write a poem about it would mean highlighting it above all other feelings, and he didn't want confusion to rule his life until the project deadline. That was too dangerous.

Suddenly, a shadow passed over him, cutting his muddled thoughts. "Hey, Li," a nonchalant voice greeted, "What's up?"

Syaoran snapped from his musings and looked towards his silence's trespasser: dark hair, midnight eyes, manifest charm, and a calm smile…

Hiiragizawa Eriol.

_What is he doing talking to me?_

He shook his head and looked away. "Nothing…just working on an assignment."

"Ah." The blue eyes twinkled. "Let me guess…"

Syaoran scoffed. "Nah, you'd _never_," he intoned, sarcastically.

"English poem?"

Syaoran groaned and ripped out his ink-covered page of nonsense, crumpling it into a ball and shooting it at the nearest trashcan.

"Nice shot," Eriol commented, pulling out a seat and seating himself on it.

Syaoran's eyes narrowed slightly at his gesture. "Where's Yamazaki?" he asked, referring to the zany trivia-questioner with whom the popular, blue-eyed heartthrob liked to hang out with.

"In class," Eriol replied, easily. "Mathematics. And Kino?"

The amber-eyed boy shook his head in disagreement. "She doesn't fit the verbal analogy," he said.

"No?"

"No."

"But don't you hang out with her often now?"

Amber met cobalt with a flash of exasperation. Stupid, unavoidable, haunting question! "Look, Hiiragizawa…Kino and I…" Syaoran struggled for an appropRiate answer. It would be stupid to deny he spent time with her, but even stupider to agree that they actually hung out a lot. "We're just patching up past conflicts."

"Oh, I see." Eriol chuckled. "I remember the times…you were a sensational challenger!"

"It was petty; don't remind me," Syaoran grumbled back.

"Yeah, well…it was rather refreshing."

"For _you_."

"Of course. It gets pretty tedious too to see all the people you pass by gape at you with this—kind of awe. Like you're some kind of Pope or something. It's not nice. Really."

"You're not intimidating me yet, if that's what you're trying to do."

"It's not, so that's good. The whole thing's ridiculous, and I was just pointing out that you were a great diversion from it all."

Syaoran snorted.

"It's a compliment."

"Thrilled."

"Yeah right. C'mon, Li, we don't have to be liars here…"

"Good. I take it back. But then again…thanks, I guess."

"That one, I was waiting for. You're welcome."

Eriol, for the most part, was an uncomplicated communicator—candid and spontaneous, not at all judgmental. It was not until the moments when he stylishly maneuvered the topic to Sakura that Syaoran felt ill at ease, for Eriol enjoyed injecting smooth, well-pronounced subtexts that were all _somehow_ true—just to an extent, that is.

But then, Syaoran wasn't even sure to what extent exactly.

"You walk her home, don't you?" Eriol would slip out, almost innocently, and Syaoran would hesitate to measure a reply. _No, but I always walk with her until the crossroads… So? — _"Nope. Not to her doorstep anyway."

"Y'know, I'm glad you guys are patching up." _Yeah, but big deal! We're not about to become bosom buddies. _— "You think? I'd call it civilized."

"Hey, Kino's pretty cute, really." _Yes, but even more if she didn't wear so much make-up… (Just an observation of course) —_ "She's all right. She can pass for a face-powder model."

"Have you ever gone out with her? You should try."_ Heck! What for? But then again…why not? _— "No."

Syaoran struggled to conceal his frustrations, praying his midnight-eyed challenger would not notice how he repeatedly kicked himself in the head. Whenever Eriol brought back flashes of the times he spent with Sakura with some cleverly concealed undertone, his stupid heart seemed to play tricks on him, pumping and pumping with uneven, maddening thuds.

His reeling mind could not help squeaking out eerie suspicions either: From the way Eriol spoke…what was Sakura really becoming to him? What did others see in what was happening? Were their perceptions true?

Perhaps she was becoming more…more…more than what he bargained for.

What _had_ he bargained for anyway?

"You know…she really is kinda kooky," Eriol murmured, just as Syaoran was gathering the guts to escape for the bathroom. Midnight pierced amber in an unfathomable stare. "It's Hayli around whom we all keep up masks. Even Kino—hers the thickest of all."

Syaoran blinked, surprised. "How do you mean?" he asked.

Eriol shrugged, declining on explaining the nitty-gritty of his popular friend's persona. "I think you'll know soon enough," he said. Then grinned. "And I also think—" He aimed the cocky, meaningful grin at Syaoran. "—that at the rate you're going, you'll know in sooner a time than I imagine."

Syaoran's eyes narrowed slightly.

"You know, as her friend, I would recommend you don't stop trying to know, Li," Eriol continued. "She's a pretty sweet remedy to her own poison once she lets out." Eriol winked behind the gleam of his spectacles. "You'll see."

Syaoran did not reply as he felt another thought rise at the back of his mind at the strange statement.

What was Eriol really trying to make him think, or trying to make him feel? Yes, he knew there was something beyond Sakura's lipstick, face powder, and blush-on, for he had glimpsed some of them in her smile…but did her depths go as deep or as sweet as what Eriol implied? Syaoran knew of her layers, but how much had he truly not fathomed about her?

Eriol smiled at the manifest questions crossing Syaoran's features. His work was complete. "Well then, Li," he said, rising from his seat. "Good luck with your poem. Feel free to ask me if you need help proofreading. I know some English myself…and…well, whatever. Call on me if you need a hand. See you!"

And with that, the midnight-eyed young man turned to leave, clapping a hand jauntily on Syaoran's shoulder, and then he sauntered out of the library, leaving Syaoran to his muddled thoughts.

_Nachika…_

_Hiiragizawa…_

_What next?_

Mentally tormented, the amber-eyed young man stared down at his paper. It was still completely blank.

(CUT)

Splat. "Hoe?"

"Oh no."

"It's...?"

"I knew it."

"Rain?"

Another drop of water splashed down onto her nose as Sakura raised her head skyward. Its dull grayness during the day had developed into a canopy of nimbus, vapor-filled clouds as the day progressed. Sakura and Syaoran had agreed to take the chance of walking home as they usually did, thinking the rain might just wait for them to get home before pouring.

But Luck decided otherwise.

"Hoe..." Sakura murmured again, her voice beginning to tint with worry. "I can't be home for several more blocks. This is bad. Perhaps we should get a cab, Syaoran-kun, ne? Though I don't think I have the cash, and there's a crossroad up ahead. We couldn't very well leave each other at this point—"

"Come on... Let's hurry. There should be a shed up ahead."

She glanced at his quick interjection. It had seemed too perturbed, too tense. It was the truth, wasn't it? They couldn't leave each other out in the rain; one or the other was bound to get a cold. She shook her head and hurried a few steps to pull up alongside him.

"It's going to pour any time soon," she mused aloud as she felt the occasional drops heighten to a light shower on her head. She heard Syaoran hiss a short Chinese syllable under his breath—possibly a curse word. "How far will you have to go from the crossroad, Syaoran-kun?"

"Fifteen minutes, at a run." His pace quickened.

"Really? That's pretty far."

"There's the shed."

Then, all of a sudden, a big bang of thunder lacerated the rhythm of raindrops, accompanying a short streak of lightning. "HOEEE!" Sakura shrieked, halting in her pace to stare at the again-darkened sky.

"_Come on!_" Syaoran shouted, grabbing at her wrist and launching into a fast dash.

Hurriedly, he pulled her across the growing puddles, ignoring the splashes that drenched the hems of his pants and Sakura's frequent yelps of surprise as they almost stepped on a streaking black cat, ran into a traffic light post, and collided with a racing, honking pick-up that Sakura would have really crashed into had Syaoran not pulled her back in time.

"Are you crazy?" Syaoran yelled at her as they retreated to the sidewalk. "That truck was inches from your nose!"

"I know! I could have died, I'm sorry! I didn't see it coming!"

"And that's a good excuse, isn't it?"

"No, _oniichan_, but—"

"Let's get to the shed."

His speed increased in the several hundred meters more remaining, the weight of his clothes driving him to accelerate as water stuck them to his skin. Faster. Faster!

_Good thing there's no homework, _Syaoran thought, vaguely, through the blur of the rush. _Or I'd have brought home the books…_

"HOE!" He jerked back to look at her. She had splashed down on a puddle. He pulled at her hand again. Wet pieces of his hair were already drenched and blocking his vision. The winds began to whip at their faces, cold breaths that intensified the chill. _Faster!_

And they ran—ran and ran, until after what felt like eternity, Syaoran managed to drag them both into the small, roofed area, drenched and breathless as the heavy shower launched into an outright downpour.

Hair sodden, makeup running, and clothes sticking, Sakura collapsed on the cement bench, gasping for air. "Never thought…we'd get here…" she panted, her hand groping at her chest. "Man! …This rain…really sucks…"

"Yeah…and running into a pick-up…would have alleviated the mood…" Syaoran added, sardonically, his eyes on her as he leaned exhaustedly against a post. "…You know if you had died…I would have laughed…"

"No, you wouldn't…" She tried to grin. "You didn't even crack a grin when it…_almost_ happened…"

Syaoran scowled. "Were you blind? …The headlights were blazing!"

"I'm sorry! …I was looking the other way!"

"What for?…"

"I dunno! …For coming cars?"

Syaoran shook his head. "Baka," he said, and it would have sounded like a tease had he not forgotten to inject some humor.

Sakura was miserable (Syaoran noted this with strange amusement). "I already said I'm sorry," she muttered.

He just shook his head again, disbelievingly, not bothering to tell her he did not really think she was an idiot. They gasped for breath for a minute more or two in silence, Sakura's apologetic expression rapidly becoming one of downright guilt.

Syaoran almost betrayed a grin. He didn't think the great Sakura Kinomoto of Hayli's stuck-up clique could be so naïve.

"Well, thanks anyway," she continued, having caught her breath. "For, you know…saving my idiot butt…"

"You're welcome," he replied quickly, astringently, struggling to maintain a tone of solemnity even as the grin spread across his face. He walked over to a spot on the bench and plopped down on it, heavily. A sideways glance revealed to him that she was now overwhelmed by self-reproach and contrition—volumes of disappointment heavy in the hooded emerald pools—and he was flippantly bemused.

The scene was incredibly bizarre—extraordinary, no, _abnormal!_ What had the rain and a rushing pick-up truck do to the girl who, seven days ago, would have slapped him hard if he had even tried to imply she was an idiot? Light streaks of black running down from melted mascara, hair and lashes heavy with raindrops: how was this lost-puppy-like teenager _Sakura Kinomoto_?

Vaguely, the hyperactive interpreter in his head vaulted out a disturbing question: _What had happened between them that allowed him to see this side of her? _But even that voice was lost in his awe and the lungful of laughter that suddenly surged to his throat at the sight of her.

"Kino, are you crying?" he asked, eventually.

She pulled her face away from his line of vision. "No. I'm not. But thank you for asking."

"You're welcome." Silence. A car rushed past. "Seriously, Kino. Were you offended?"

"No! Why would I be?"

"I don't know."

"Well, me neither."

"Okay. Right."

"Yes! Right! Now go away."

And he caught the glitch. "Y'know what, I don't think so. You might bump into a parked car—"

She scowled. "Very funny, Syaoran. Ha times five—six…however much you need so you won't feel rejected."

He blinked at her, eyebrows furrowing slightly at the sudden lash of astringency. "You're angry," he said.

"No! I just don't like it when a friend of mine is upset with me, all right?"

"You don't like it when you're called a baka."

"I've been called worse things." She paused. "Look, I know that was stupid, but you don't have to be so _angry. _I mean, I get that you hate me without you saying you'd want me dead, you know. I get it—!"

"Hold on. I never said I'd want you dead."

"Oh, yeah?" She knitted her eyebrows and deepened her voice. "_Sakura!_" she boomed out in perfect imitation. "_Are you crazy? Baka! Baka! I'll laugh if you die!_"

Syaoran scoffed. "I didn't mean that and that's not hatred, Kino. That's _concern_. There's a—" _What the—? _Suddenly, he stopped. _No way. I did _not_ just admit I was concerned for her. _His eyes quickly darted away from the emerald eyes he knew had widened.

_Syaoran. You are an idiot._

"Say that again, Syaoran-kun?" she said, almost managing to sound like she hadn't heard it clearly the first time.

Syaoran gloated. _Where the heck did _that_ come from anyway?_ "I...said it wasn't hatred."

"And that you cared if I lived or died?"

"...Something like that."

"And you don't want me to bump into anything anymore, right?"

"Don't push it, Kino."

She smiled. "Thank you. I feel a lot better."

Syaoran shrugged, as a big gust of wind detoured the rain to reach inside the shed, blowing through the remnants of his rain-sodden mush of a brain—subconsciously reliving the strange, slapdash pieces of their recent conversation. He hesitated.

"You mentioned…" he said at last, breaking the quiet. "Well...it came across like...well, it seemed that you called me a friend of yours...?" He endured a hesitant pause as the blood rushed to his head. He had never tried saying something like that before.

Then—"Well, yeah, I did," Sakura declared, simply, candidly, voice unwavering. "I mean…aren't you?"

He shrugged. "I didn't think so."

"Didn't is past tense."

"Yeah. It is."

She smiled.

"So…you okay?" Syaoran asked.

"Well enough."

"Here." He handed her a sodden bandanna from his pocket. "Wipe your face. All that grease is running. Get that off before I call a cab or nobody will ever stop to take us on."

"Hoe? A cab?"

"Yeah."

"Great! I'll pay you when I get home to my piggy bank."

"I don't think the taxi will wait."

"Tomorrow then, when I give this bandanna back to you. Hopefully, the mascara stains aren't permanent."

"Just keep the thing if the stains won't come off."

"Then I'll buy you a new one." She afforded a smile.

He glanced at her. She was clean now. No makeup. No mask. No illusions. She was herself. Sodden, but herself—relieved, slightly sheepish, cold and shivering. Transparent. Human. Genuine. He wrenched away from her.

Strange…Sakura Kinomoto, in spite of everything, had actually proven to be…_nice._

(CUT)

TBC


	16. Mathematics, Pillows, and Posters

Chapter XVI - Mathematics, Pillows, and Posters

"All right. So that's 14x plus—"

"No, that's already _negative_; you've transposed it over the equal sign."

"Oh. Right. Okay. So, that's…?"

"14x minus 25x."

"Right. Of course…and that's…"

"Something you can solve _manually_ by yourself."

Syaoran plunged back into the comfort of the sofa's backrest and crossed his arms behind his head, sensing Sakura's blatantly annoyed glare rest on him with satisfaction. Frustrating hours of unending and repetitive mathematical questions from her had made him something very close to a sadist. A ghost of a grin played secretly in his mind, though he maintained a strict, resolute scowl on his façade.

There was a huge Algebra test coming on Monday and Sakura had managed to put him up to a tutoRial session with her that cloudy Saturday afternoon, having been turned down by Tomoyo and happily redirected her to Syaoran. She explained that she had a rare, all-day bonding session her mother scheduled—which was actually true—and thus couldn't make it.

"_Why not contact Li-kun, Sakura-chan? I'm sure he has time. He's exempted from the test, right?"_

And so, more out of desperation than excitement, Sakura contacted the amber-eyed math genius, consoling her cramming head that, in any case, a nice old study session would at least bring them closer to each other—well, that is, bring him closer to her. Whatever.

"Please, Syaoran-kun?" she'd pleaded over the phone, earnestly. "I really want to pass this test."

"Okay… Since when have you _really wanted_ to pass math tests?" he asked, a bit incredulously.

"Well…since…" She stopped. Sighed. "You'd never buy it."

Syaoran cocked his eyebrow. "What makes you so sure?"

Sakura sighed. "I just don't want to flunk… My dad works hard really hard for my brother and me, and…I just—"

"You have conscience enough not to disappoint him the way you have been lately," he filled in. But it was not an insult; it could even pass for sympathy if his tones were not so vague.

Sakura sighed. "Please don't make me sound like a prodigal daughter."

"I was not trying to, Kino."

"I suppose. You're right anyway. So…would you, Syaoran-kun? I mean…I'll even pay you if you like."

A sharp scowl assaulted her through the receiver. "I'm not for hire, Kino," he growled.

She sighed. "I'm sorry. I just really need help."

There was a tortured pause. Then: "Come over in thirty minutes."

And there it was.

It still felt quite strange to her to leave the house afterwards without even a light brush of blush-on on her cheeks or a lick of mascara to her eyes, but Syaoran had made his preferences clear to her in that taxi ride three days ago. Quite surprisingly for her, that uncomfortably sodden episode had turned out to be a pleasant roll of surprises.

Vividly, she remembered every word spoken once they had settled in beside each other in the backseat of the candidly displeased cab driver.

"_Hoeee…I must look a mess!" she exclaimed._

_Syaoran shifted his attention from defeating the sullen taxi driver in a glaring game to her. His eyes, just a few moments ago dark, gleaming daggers, softened only so slightly to take on a calculated nonchalance. "Not really," he said. "You actually look…well…"_

"_What, worse?" Sakura laughed._

_Syaoran shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "No…" he said. "Actually…_better_ without makeup…" His voice faded to a barely audible whisper as he turned abruptly to stare out his window. She thought she also heard as he looked away: "Nicer…"_

_She hesitated a few moments. "That seemed to take you a lot of effort to say," she commented, carefully._

"_It did," he said._

"_Well, you don't have to strain yourself, Syaoran-k—"_

"_It doesn't matter if I strain, Sakura…" His eyes found their way back towards hers. "It's the truth. _That's all._"_

Sakura had not minded at all that they did not talk again until they arrived at her doorstep and he told her to forget about paying him back.

That particular part of the evening was partly why, when he asked her to arrive in the apartment in thirty minutes, she struggled to be as punctual as she could—not exactly to please him, but to prove that she was also fully capable of respecting what he wanted. It seemed only fair.

Wei, his only companion in the pleasantly simple apartment, was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. They were in the living room.

"It's negative," Sakura announced, a few seconds later.

Syaoran nodded, vaguely.

"It's negative 11."

"…"

Sakura hesitated. "Syaoran? You there?"

"Yeah…" he muttered. "Yeah, it's negative 11."

She scowled at his fuzzy reply, her mouth a fierce pout. "That's it, Li, just rub in your IQ superiority," she griped. "Just rub it in." She turned back and savagely resumed rewriting her solution on the paper.

Three excruciating minutes later, wherein Syaoran found himself some pieces of bond paper, a neatly maintained comic book, and an old, blunt pencil… "Have you solved that yet?" he asked.

Sakura lifted her head and glowered at him. "_I'm trying_," she gritted out and turned her head quickly back to her paper.

"How far are you into it?"

"Halfway..." She twirled her legs in the air from her comfortable sprawl on the floor.

Syaoran smirked, watching the restless movement in amusement. _Sure, she's halfway...che. I'll bet she's stuck..._

He leaned a little bit over the low table that separated them to catch a glimpse of her face and her confusion. Her elbows and arms were propped to support her head as she creased her brows down on the messy sheet of paper in front of her, her pen unmoving as she forlornly stared at a chaos of erasures.

"Do you have the right equation?" he asked.

"...I don't really know."

Syaoran frowned. "Let me see that," he said, craning his neck and stretching across the table to see over her shoulder.

Swiftly, Sakura moved to cover her paper with her own shadow, scowling determinedly up at him. "No," she bit out. "Get away until I've solved it."

"Not with _that_ solution."

"_What!?_" She turned feverishly back to her paper. "Why! What's wrong with it?"

"You've got to find their least common denominator first, before you add them," he explained. "Remember? I told you that at least five times in the last two hours."

Sakura raised an eyebrow, blankly. "Uhm. Right."

He sighed and plunged on: "All right, to get an LCD, you first have to multiply their denominators, so that's equation over 2x – 14 multiplied to 3x + 4..." He flicked his pencil from binomial to binomial over her shoulder to indicate his points and terms, snatching glances at her to see if she was getting him. "...Right?"

"Uh...yes...?" she guessed more than answered.

"Yes. So then you're going to have to do that LCD-divided-by-the-old-denominator thing, and multiply what's left to the respective numerator..." Again, he searched her blank face for a response. "...Right?"

She stared at him. "...Uh-huh."

He stopped short of explaining further and sagged back slightly. "You didn't get me, did you?" he asked.

"Well, maybe if you'd stop talking like that, I would!" she cried out, snatching her paper from the floor and crumpling it in her fist. "Why can't you just give your paper to me already and I'll just study it myself?"

He raised his eyebrows. "You mean, _copy_ it."

"Yeah, that too."

"Not a chance."

Sakura groaned and collapsed to the floor. This was insane! How did Syaoran managed to go through the thing in such a breeze? Now he was just copying little sketches off his comic book, completely carefree. She, on the other hand, still suffered miserably through the puzzle of annoying little digits—as lost and confused as ever, no matter how he tried to explain the concepts in "simple terms."

"Come on, Syaoran-kun," she pleaded at last, having become lost yet again in the same number she'd already wasted two scratch papers on. "_Please_ help me out…" She made it sound as if he had not been trying to do exactly that ever since she arrived.

"Yes, Kino, I will," Syaoran said, almost—just almost—sounding as tired as he felt. "Just a while. I promise." Two minutes later, he raised his head: "Are you done yet?"

She scowled.

"Have you double-checked the signs?"

"Triple-checked."

"I'll be there in a flash, Kino. Just a few more strokes. Strive for the LCD." And he bowed to his paper again.

Sakura waited. Hundreds more strokes after "a few more", she watched him finish sketching in a lopsided weapon. "Wow, that's great, Syaoran-kun," she said. "It's so nice to know you're done."

"I will be in two seconds. Two seconds! I promise." He rubbed at some blots with the fast-diminishing eraser at the top of his pencil.

Sakura scowled, desperation transmuting to annoyance at his seemingly deliberate apathy. "Yeah right! A _little_ more," she spat, grabbing a pillow. "Liar!" And with all her strength, she hurled the cushion straight to his face, knocking him, unguarded, to the floor.

"Ah! K'so!" he yelped, loudly. And his pencil fell from his control, clawing a huge, gray line all across his paper, dividing his hard-won, sweat-and-blood, carefully and vigilantly penciled swordsman's face in half.

Sakura stared, stunned, suddenly frozen. "Hoeeee…"

Syaoran groaned, sitting up and massaging his back. "Oww…" he grumbled. "What did you—?" _Eh?_ He suddenly cut himself off, his glance catching the gray devastation that his masterpiece had become. He stared, his face unfathomable, his diagnosis of his ruined artwork rapidly darkening his features—to erase the streak would mean to erase the swordsman's face.

It was beyond all repairs.

"A—ano..." Sakura murmured, her insides beginning to freeze at his silence. "Syaoran-kun, I am so sorry! I…I didn't mean to do that, I swear. Wait…I think I have an eraser here…somewhere—HOEEE—!" And a pillow smacked her hard on the nose, making her fall violently on her back.

"Don't worry about it," Syaoran said, picking up his drawing and shredding it, face unfathomable. "All forgiven, Kino."

"…It…tai..." Sakura groaned, grabbing the pillow off her face and righting herself. She gasped for air.

Syaoran paused from ripping the paper into quarters. "Are you all right, Kino?" he asked.

She pushed the stray hair off of her face so he could see her scowl clearly. "You won't be," she growled.

"What? Did you say—?"

"Hah!" And another pillow slapped him full on the left side of his face.

"OW! Hey—!" He raised his arm in time to fend off another cushion that came rapidly afterwards.

She giggled, gleefully.

"Well, all right then!" Syaoran said as Sakura began gathering pillows, and he picked up his only artillery—the cushion he had been sitting on. "Bring it on, Kino!"

Sakura grinned, happily surrounded by her mound of cushions. "Piece of advice, Li," she said, gleefully. "Try running."

Syaoran only smiled back, just as waywardly, his grin more devilish than anything she had ever seen on him. "Piece of advice, Kino," he aped. "Try hitting me while you've got the chance."

"Oh, no thank you. I've got the strength in numbers, you see. And I wouldn't want to be unfair to you."

"Sweet, Kino," he commented. "But I'm not really touched. In five…"

Sakura tensed.

"Four…"

She fastened her grip on a nice, fat pillow.

"Three…"

_This game is mine._

"GO!"

_Wha—?_ "Hoeeeeeee!" Sakura shrieked, trying to duck as Syaoran's pillow sailed her way. Then it found its target…and crashed into her hair, wrecking several of the tiny braids she had managed to incorporate in her hairdo on the way to the apartment. The strings of beads fastened to her clips clung pathetically to her new, honey-colored tangles.

"What were you waiting for?" Syaoran asked, smirking. "I was counting for you to make the first free shot."

"You cheat!" she shrieked, glaring at him. "That's it! I've been _way _too kind! You asked for it, Li!" And she fired all her remaining pillows at him in a rapid, savage succession.

(CUT)

_To all you Guys and Gals of Tomoeda High!_

_Love is in the Air and Hearts are pumping hard._

_Cement those tingling connections—_

_Come to the Valentine's Day Dance on February 14_

_at the Tomoeda High Auditorium, 7:00pm._

_Groove. Move. Fall in love._

_Contact Satomi at the Student Council Office for more details._

"A dance."

Syaoran felt his insides sink.

Sakura's voice was in a low, only very slightly tentative timbre when she spoke to him, voicing the dreaded, carefully modulated query. It was strange that the question still had the power to chill him even though he had been expecting it:

"Syaoran-kun, do you want to go? Because if you do want to, maybe we two could—"

"No!" The declination came out more sharply than Syaoran intended. The slip flustered him. "I mean," he said, more calmly. Well, kind of. "I don't know. That is, I'll think about it…" He struggled to tear away from her face. It was hard if you wanted to appear nonchalant about it.

"Oh, come on," she prodded. "It'll be fun. We could go to—"

"Maybe!" he cut in again, to smother the last word. For some reason, he was terrified of it. "I couldn't tell yet if I'll go—not _now_, that is…" He did not want her to launch into a persuasive oratorical piece.

She shrugged. "Well, I couldn't tell for sure yet either, but _if_ we both could go, then you and I can—"

"Don't get your hopes up too much about that."

"Why not? Who could disallow you? Wei-san?"

"Well, no. But there's…my mother might—or my sisters, they'll—" Abruptly, he cut off the stammers with an exasperated sigh. "I can't dance," he muttered at last. "So I don't know. I mean…if I…if I go with you—or someone, or even go there at all, I wouldn't be any fun to be with, because it'll be all about the dance floor and I _really _am not friendly with the dance floor, so I couldn't dance with you—or anyone else, or…and I…"

That was the thing that Syaoran disliked most about babbling. Whenever he babbled, he let things slip—both the ones that he meant and didn't want to say, and the things that he didn't mean and just sprouted out of nowhere. Sometimes, he warbled about things he didn't know where the heck came from and yet somehow meant them. This was one of those "sometimes" episodes.

Damn it, why couldn't he just say that no one could ever catch him going to something as trivial as a Valentine's Day Dance!?

Sakura scowled at him, appearing to have disregarded the slips. "That's a lame excuse," she said. "Come on, it'll be just another gimmick. It won't be so much as about dancing but about, well, being there and living a little."

_Persuasive speech. K'so. _Syaoran glanced at his watch. He was not in the mood to be late because of a persuasive speech. "Yeah, all right," he muttered, impatiently. "Listen, let's just go—"

Then, to his utter confusion and horror, Sakura smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder, saying, "Great! I'll be ready by six-thirty."

"Wh—what?" The shock was undisguised in his features and voice. "What do you mean?"

"You'll pick me up, of course! That's the way it goes. Come on, let's get to class."

He couldn't remember ever saying that he was going to go with her! But she had already skipped a good few steps ahead on the way to class. He stared at her, dumbfounded, beginning to feel a spring of terror gurgle up inside him. _What now, Li? What did you get yourself into this time? Come on, tell her you're not going, before it's too late!_

But he didn't move.

"Syaoran-kun! Come on!" She waved at him from down the hall.

_Go to the Dance…with…Kinomoto Sakura…_

He felt his face shift into some expression, but his mind was wandering in some weird, undefined elsewhere and couldn't really register if it was a look of happiness, frustration, fatigue, or whatever. He couldn't tell, but the pleased raising of Sakura's eyebrows and the sudden widening of her smile made him think that his expression really should have been something he should have paid more attention to if he wanted to keep his dignity intact.

Still, with his mind perfectly malfunctioning, he couldn't seem to process this, and so the shockingly sincere grin that smothered his reservations proudly maintained its place on his lips as he went to follow his Valentine's Dance date.

(CUT)

"She's way ahead of you, Hayli," Eriol announced, as he came over to the in-crowd girls' table during lunch hour with Yamazaki. "I caught them looking at the Dance poster just this morning."

Hayli smiled. "Really? They're going together?" she asked, her voice, as usual, deceptive.

Ria nodded. "I heard her telling Tomoyo during class," she confirmed. "But, heck! It's nothing, Hay! She's hardly winning yet. Li never even looked her way when she started talking about it."

"Oh, you think so?" Hayli said, her eyes widening to a look that somehow resembled surprise. "Well, that's sad. Honestly, guys, don't you see it?"

"See what?" Eriol asked, his midnight eyes piercing Hayli with hidden tension that he concealed deftly with a smile.

Hayli shrugged. "Well, I think he's starting to develop feelings for her," she said.

Eyes widened around the circle. "You do?" Chiharu cried out.

"Yeah. I mean…come on! Why else would he hang out with her as often as he already had?" Hayli replied, coolly. "Seriously. Besides, she managed to make him look a bit better, didn't she? You gotta admit that polo was topnotch."

"Hey!" Yamazaki suddenly cut in. "Not to change the topic or anything, but did you guys know Battousai the Slasher used to wear pink and that he used to sell medicines with his wife going undercover to hide from evil jerks who want to continue ruling Japan?"

"No kidding!" Haia blustered out.

"Yes kidding," Chiharu quickly put in. "Don't believe him, Andy."

"But why not? It's interesting!"

"You'd be disappointed. He's lying. Trust me."

"Anyway, Hay!" Mia broke in, dragging the topic back into line. "Let me get this straight…" she said. "We…are supposed to _believe_ you when you say you're _happy_ Sakura and Li Syaoran are hooking up?"

Hayli rolled her eyes at the faces suddenly focused on her. "Oh, come on, guys!" she said. "I didn't say I was _happy_, but how far did you think I would go denying the obvious?"

"I dunno," Ria shrugged. "Forever?"

"Li Syaoran actually managed to make me look twice that day, I admit it," Haia commented. "Bet that took a lot of work."

"Hey!" Yamazaki again popped up a finger. "Speaking of which, did you guys know that Li Syaoran is actually from a high-class clan in Hong Kong, and there owns a whole collection of swords, which of course he knows how to—"

"Oh, quiet down, you," Chiharu cut off, smilingly. "Of all lies, my sweet, that was your worst."

"Oh, come on, Haru-chan! When will I ever get you to believe anything I say?" Yamazaki asked. "You might not even take me seriously when I try to ask you to the dance."

"Just pick me up at 7 sharp."

"Okay."

Eriol clapped a hand jauntily on Hayli's shoulder, not buying her scene for a second. "Just to spell it, Hay," he said. "They're keeping it up. Frankly, I think if you try another little scheme to win this one, it would have to be one hell of a cheat. This is Sakura we're talking about."

"_Exactly_, Eriol, it's Sakura!" Hayli gasped out. "Why would I try to cheat _her_? You offend me, Englishman!"

Eriol forced a laugh that still managed to sound real. His talent, after all, had always been mystery and camouflage. "So sorry, my lady Hayli!" he said, good-naturedly, his language switching suavely to English. "And now I guess I should take my cue and go." And in Japanese: "Yamazaki, you coming or are you too busy already?"

"I'm coming."

"All right! Later then, people!"

"See you, Englishman! And by the way…"

"Yeah?"

"I _am_ capable of a hell of a cheat."

Eriol shrugged. "That's what I said."

(CUT)

TBC


	17. A Prelude

XVII - A Prelude

Nachika Hayli watched the two of them hanging out under the tree again at lunchtime. Naturally, she kept well out of sight behind a conveniently located wall; she would never want to be caught dead spying on her old best bud and the quiet campus rebel. The idea itself was undeserving of imagination, especially since, over the months, it seemed that eating under that tree had become a habit for her two targets.

Hayli used to think that it was no big deal—Li Syaoran would never allow Sakura to stick to him for long—yet it appeared she had been mistaken.

Several fat roots sprawled between the two of them, providing decent distance, but the longer she watched, the more irrelevant that partition seemed to become. There was no hint at all of animosity. Gone were the snide side glances and forced grins. No anger. Not even mistrust.

The fact glared oh-so-mockingly at her: they were…_friends_.

It was revolting.

Syaoran broke a piece of chocolate into two and roughly pushed the other half into Sakura's hands. Her emerald eyes widened in surprise. He looked away, and Hayli smirked. Sakura was better at this game than she thought. That poorly concealed discomfort on the Chinese boy's face was an unmistakable translation of rising, though adamantly suppressed, affection for his emerald-eyed companion.

Truth to tell, the guy really was quite attractive, not considering his annoying cockiness and that unbending defiance of her popularity game. In fact, Sakura was almost enviable for bringing out that flush. Shyness was a symptom for denial, and denial was a symptom for falling hook, line, and sinker. Hayli wouldn't mind having a guy like that fall for her.

Well, it didn't matter.

The best thing about Sakura was that she was so naïve. She launched herself headlong into things without even noting provisos. And everyone knew Hayli was one of the best hands at dirty games—especially the ones where no rules were specified.

Hayli had no uncertainties that she would win. She had it all planned out. She could strike any day now, any moment. Even now.

_But things could still get sooo much better. _Hayli smirked. _I can definitely wait for _that_._

(CUT)

Tomoyo happily hummed a tune as she pressed the zoom button on her camera.

Sakura and Syaoran were adorable together. Perfect. The chemistry was impossible to miss: she, the vibrant and fun-loving spring flower; he, the shy and intriguing breath of autumn. It was beyond her how people could not see it! Through the lens, Syaoran smirked at something Sakura said and she scowled when she noticed the quiet mockery. He cocked his eyebrow at her when she turned silent.

Tomoyo giggled. She wished she could hear what they were saying, but to go any nearer to them would run the risk of being seen. If those two saw her, Syaoran would definitely retreat from the camera, and that wouldn't do at all. Besides, it was much more thrilling to tape them from the background.

Suddenly, she noticed a movement from the corner of the lens. Her eyes popped out from behind her camera, narrowing rapidly when she detected a familiar, sashaying profile slip behind a wall and retreat into the school.

What could Nachika Hayli be doing hanging out alone in that particularly inconspicuous spot near Sakura and Syaoran? Tomoyo doubted it was for moral support. Hah. She lived to see the day Hayli looked out for someone else's welfare besides her own.

_Is should keep an eye on that girl…_she mused. Then she shoved her face behind the camera again.

Another zoom in on Syaoran's face. Another priceless grin.

_Ohohohoho…_

(CUT)

Meiling's fists trembled slightly as she tore her dark red eyes away from the sickening vision of Kinomoto Sakura and Li Syaoran sharing chocolates beneath leafy overhangs. It wasn't right! He couldn't be so stupid not to see that that the green-eyed doll was nothing but trouble!

"You fool," she hissed. "You fool, Li, you fool!"

(CUT)

"_You're going about this very wrongly, Mei."_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_He'll never see you unless you make him."_

"_He's too busy to see me—or anyone."_

"_Yeah well, you'll never know unless you try."_

(CUT)

Meiling shook her head irritably at the memory, scorn flaring inside of her when her head began to suggest that she might have been better off had she taken that advice. Angrily, she reached up to brush off a tickle in her eye. Then she stopped, stunned.

Her hand was damp.

_What the—? _A surge of panic rose inside her. _How…?_ Her eyes darted back towards the couple now eating in comfortable silence under the tree. _But I was just watching…!_ Then she felt another tear slide down her cheek, hot and wet, trickling down to her lips. She tasted the salt. Another slipped down…and another…another…!

Her insides ran cold.

An untamable numbness, terrified and furious, flooded her body, and she buried her face into the sleeve of her shirt, struggling to ease the crying.

Her thoughts raged at her sudden breakdown. She was not supposed to be this weak! She was not supposed to cry just because she saw how Syaoran has completely stopped resisting Sakura's companionship! How could she give in, especially in a place like this? Damn it, she was not supposed to be this weak!

She was _not_ this weak!

She sank against the trunk of her hiding tree and slowly slid to the ground, clamping down on her lower lip to suppress whimpers. She gulped in air in huge, calming breaths.

No, she would not cry. She would not! Tears were for weaklings.

Meiling leaned her head against the trunk, shutting her eyes, hiding desperately from herself, hiding desperately from the vision of Syaoran handing Kinomoto Sakura that piece of chocolate, deep coffee eyes gazing without grudge or misgiving…

Another tear escaped her.

(CUT)

Sakura massaged her temples with her fingers as she stepped outside of the classroom.

The math test had been pure torture! Naturally, Syaoran had finished way ahead of her, though she knew he had tried to go slowly. He never told her that, but she knew—why else had he spent twice the time he usually spent just writing down solutions? Sakura hadn't hoped that it would last though, and when he exited, the only thing that kept her going was a quite hiss of "just do it" that he directed towards her when he passed by to submit his paper.

Now she half-dreaded the memory of that whisper because she knew the test went really badly for her. She wondered how she would tell Syaoran that none of what he had taught her had gotten through to her head after all. Her paper seemed to have more erasures than answers! And that look Hinata-sensei gave her when she submitted her paper…! Her face burned at the memory of it.

She stepped out into the corridors and was about to join the traffic of bodies when a hand suddenly gripped her wrist and pulled her from the throng. _Hoe—!_

"How did it go?" Syaoran asked.

Sakura blinked at him, surprised. "Where did you come from?" she asked back.

He shrugged, impatiently, motioning vaguely to the wall outside the classroom. "It doesn't matter—"

"You waited there?" Sakura interrupted. She broke into a sheepish grin. "Honestly, Syaoran-kun, you shouldn't have."

"I did," he replied. "Leave it." He let go of her wrist. "So did you finish?" he asked.

At that, Sakura's eyes fell to the floor, and she heaved a heavy sigh, collapsing forlornly against the wall, head dropping. "Yeah…finished," she muttered. "That's what I am…finished—doomed, in fact."

"Good," Syaoran said.

"Hoe!"

"You'll pass."

"What do you mean?"

"You finished. You'll pass."

She scowled at him, yet there was no trace of mockery in his features. His steady gaze reflected the same nonchalant confidence in his tone. She cocked an eyebrow at him in incredulity, certain he couldn't be serious, but he never grinned. It actually seemed as if he was just stating facts! But he couldn't actually believe…!

"What're you gawking at?" he asked, and he started off down the corridors, leaving her to follow him.

"Mou, Syaoran!" Sakura yelped at him, as she jogged to catch up. "You shouldn't do that!" she berated. "I don't need your mockery after that sordid test—!"

"Who said I was mocking?" Syaoran asked.

"What else could you be doing?" she retaliated. And when he didn't even reply, she plunged on in defensive, injured tones: "I worked as hard as anyone else on that test! I did the best I could, you know…!"

Syaoran stopped. "You're being difficult," he said. "I'd bet five years of my life that you'll pass. Satisfied?"

Sakura gaped at him, stunned. For a moment, his eyes flashed to meet hers, all exasperation; then he resumed their stride through the corridors. Sakura followed him, still disbelieving. How uncanny! The guy was serious! Somehow, he found reason to believe that _she_, the girl who almost made him vomit blood just trying to teach her some math concepts, would pass that test! It was laughable!

And yet, for the cold, math genius Li Syaoran to be so confident in her score, perhaps it was safe to imagine that she might just make it. She couldn't imagine him saying those things just to comfort her—now _that _was a stupid notion—but there was no denying that his obstinate confidence was lightening somewhat.

"I never thanked you for your help, did I, Syaoran-kun?" she asked.

He paused for a moment and hesitated slightly before he answered. "Actually, you did. When you left the apartment last Saturday, you said thanks for the help…and for the dinner."

"Oh, right," Sakura murmured, remembering. "Then you offered to walk me home." She grinned. "Then I thanked you for _that _too but then I declined."

Syaoran hesitated again. "…Yeah, exactly," he whispered.

"Well, for everything you did, words aren't enough," Sakura muttered. "I meant I haven't _thanked you _thanked you. But I will. I'll make it all up to you, Syaoran-kun." She grinned up at him, but he refused to look back at her.

Tomoyo met them as they emerged from the school doors, camcorder held up to her eye as always, red light flashing. She waved when she saw them coming and Syaoran quickly lowered his head to avoid the lens. The purple-eyed matchmaker giggled inwardly at his evasiveness.

"How was your test, Sakura-chan?" she asked, lowering her gadget for Syaoran's benefit.

Sakura sighed, though she retained a sheepish smile. "Honestly? Not so good."

"You'll make it, I'm sure," Tomoyo said. "From what I know, you had a good teacher." Syaoran's eyes flashed towards her, and when she smiled, he flushed and pulled away.

Sakura broke into a wide grin. "You bet I did," she said. "I can't imagine how I could make it up to him if I fail that thing."

"You won't have to," Syaoran cut in, quietly, before he could stop himself. "…Trust me, Sakura."

After that, there was no stopping Tomoyo from snapping on her camcorder.

(CUT)

Syaoran walked home alone that afternoon. It felt a bit strange after several months of having company. Sakura was confused when he evaded her invitation, but he needed the time alone.

The day had not gone as he expected.

It was true that the feeling of ease whenever he was with Sakura no longer surprised or bothered him—well, not as greatly as it used to anyway—but these new _tugs_ at his mind that he could not quite suppress or tame was nothing less than freaky. He did not enjoy seeing himself do or speak of things that he ended up regretting moments later—an uncomfortably _not _angry sort of regret. And what was even stranger and scarier was that he did not regret them because they weren't true.

He regretted them because they _were_.

He did not wait for her outside that classroom door for more than an hour just out of courtesy. He did not ask to accompany her on her way home because it was the right thing to do. He did not even tell her to trust him because he simply wanted to comfort her. He did those things because…

He shook his head. _Syaoran, you're losing it._

...Sakura was worth it.

The amber-eyed Chinese boy heaved a defeated sigh.

It was true, and if he really though about it, perhaps it was not so surprising now. She really was turning out to be a very different girl from the one who enjoyed accosting him in public. Everything was so different—different in a way that he couldn't deny liking. Syaoran rarely ever saw himself as a fool and Sakura's transformation made sense to him. What he disliked was his lack of understanding of his own responses.

He would consider them normal if his mind would just stop playing tricks on him whenever anything understandably friendly happened between them. Every time he did something decent for her—pull her through the downpour, teach her some math basics, or throw a few pillows at her—he felt like that joyful smile could see right through him.

_It's like she could see something I didn't know I was showing, like she knows what I feel and could interpret it better than I could. _Syaoran clenched his fists inside his pockets. _But _what_?_

He sighed at his own confusion. Why was it that ever since Sakura imposed herself on his life, everything suddenly became more complicated? To make it worse, he felt like he wouldn't trade all the time he spent with her to go back to his past solitude! It was a scary thought, but denying it would be plain stupid.

Syaoran unclenched his fists with another sigh. The entire shebang was a mess. Or maybe it was simply because he was too scared to sort things out.

_Scared_, he spat, inwardly. _Che._

But then again, being able to hang out with Sakura Kinomoto for several months running was a pretty preposterous idea too.

At that moment, Syaoran glanced towards his side, and was immediately sorry he did. Looking to the spot where she usually walked beside him somehow made things more complicated.

Berating himself internally, Syaoran redirected his gaze to the front, and when he did, he immediately knew that he was in trouble. Amidst everything else that he didn't want to name or face, that much became clear to him, when he _forced_ his eyes away from Sakura's usual spot: he was in deep trouble.

_So why don't I feel like I want to let this thing go?_ _Why don't I want to get out of it while I still could?_

Syaoran shook his head and picked up speed, realizing only then that he had slowed to a snail's pace. _Strange, _he mused, idly. _The winds seemed colder this afternoon._

He started a bit at the thought. He seldom ever noticed the weather these past months, unless it was rainy. There was usually no reason to notice anyway, what with Sakura always triggering one peculiar conversation after another. He smirked a little. The girl _was _a pretty good talker. Not everything she said was always relevant, but she did well at compensating for his silence. Sometimes, he thought she was too lively for her own good.

Syaoran stopped in his tracks.

An image of Sakura smiling at him invaded his head again, and again he felt the feeling that he had just exposed himself.

(CUT)

Wei was humming under his breath that Friday afternoon, musing to himself about his somber young master.

The boy had gone straight to his room again when he arrived, just like yesterday and the day before that, locking the door in his traditional way of saying "don't disturb me unless it's a life-and-death situation or I won't apologize if I accidentally, you know, kill you." He had been acting that way the entire week.

If Wei guessed correctly, it was because of that bubbly Sakura girl who came over last Saturday, the one who had used up almost every scratch paper in the apartment trying to solve those math problems. The elderly servant still couldn't get over how that woman had provoked his young master enough that he allowed them to create such a mess in the living room. Syaoran was usually so tidy.

In any case, even though it wasn't in his place to judge, Wei wouldn't discourage the friendship. He rarely ever saw Syaoran so free and in high spirits. He understood that it was difficult for the boy to be that way, what with the pressure of the clan and his mother always hanging over his head. Wei didn't think it was healthy for a young man to be so guarded and self-contained. If Syaoran found some kind of release through that young woman, then nobody had the right to take that away from him.

The problem now was that Syaoran might just deny himself that small pleasure. Certainly, it wouldn't be uncharacteristic.

The phone rang just as Wei was mincing the onions for dinner. He looked up, curiously. The phone's high-pitched squeals were not a very common sound in the apartment.

He picked it up. "Good evening, this is—"

"I PASSED!" the wild, ecstatic yell attacked his eardrum in an explosion of noise from the other line. "JUST LIKE YOU SAID, SYAORAN, I PASSED! I JUST HEARD, FROM TOMOYO-CHAN! HINATA-SENSEI TOLD HER…!"

Wei, his ear now a safe distance from the receiver, blinked at the voice. The girl continued to talk in a rush of incoherent words, her notes high and excited. The elderly servant hesitated. "Eh…Sakura-san?" he ventured, cautiously, and there was a sudden silence on the other end of the line. Wei felt a wave of relief. He grabbed his chance to speak before she could start squealing again. "Forgive me, Sakura-san, but Syaoran-sama is currently unable to come to the phone right now. Would you like to leave a message?"

Sakura's voice was soaked in embarrassment when she replied. "Uhm, uh…yes, please, Wei-san," she stuttered. "Just please tell him thanks…"

"Of course. I'll let him know."

"Thanks…and um…"

"Yes, Sakura-san?"

"…Well, tomorrow…hoe…how should I say this…?"

"If you wish, I could ask Syaoran-sama to call you back later."

"No, no, that's okay. Just…yeah, just please tell him thanks," she finished, weakly. "Thank you, Wei-san. Goodbye! Sorry for…you know…yelling…I mean—"

"Inconsequential, Sakura-san, don't you worry."

"Thanks, Wei-san. Well, bye!"

Wei put down the phone. He was about to return to mincing the onions when the phone rang again. "Hello, good evening—"

"Wei-san? It's me again, I just…thought…well…please tell Syaoran-kun to call me back. Thanks a lot!" She put down the phone before Wei could reply.

Baffled for just a few moments, the elderly servant returned to the onions, grinning and humming to himself.

(CUT)

TBC


	18. Expect the Unexpected

XVIII - Expect the Unexpected

Sakura's heart thrashed around in her chest in an exhilarated dance as she climbed the stairs to Syaoran's apartment. The package she held in her hands trembled slightly, just barely escaping being crushed as her nerves threatened to take over her. She didn't know what kept her from slowing her pace to a crawl. All she could do as her feet took her to that door was gather the guts that it would soon take to knock.

Questions, uncertain and unexpected, rose inside her head. Syaoran knew she was coming, so she was safe from awkward scenes like "Syaoran-sama isn't in right now" or, worse, "what are _you_ doing here?" Yet despite his acquiescence the evening before, his voice had sounded a bit too exhausted over the phone for Sakura's comfort…

Again, his strangely dull monotones drifted to her across the phone line as the conversation replayed itself in her head.

_A bright smile still lit her face by the time Syaoran returned the call, but Sakura couldn't help a slight cloak of tension in her voice as she toyed with unprepared words. The lines came, haltingly, in shy stammers. "Uh…Syaoran-kun…well…thanks for calling back… Did I—? I mean…I'm sorry if I disturbed you…I just—"_

"_Kino…" Syaoran cut in, quietly._

_Sakura flushed. "Yeah," she said, sheepishly. "Sorry about that. The reason I called was…that is, I was just wondering if tomorrow maybe I could—"_

"_I'm sticking around the house, Kino…" Syaoran interrupted again, and he made the line sound like _I don't want to go anywhere.

"_Well, that's good," Sakura replied, quickly. "That's just what I wanted to hear! But…one more thing…uh…you remember…I mean, like I said, I wanted to make it up to you…that is, say thanks, and…and…" she trailed off._

_It took a moment for Syaoran to realize where she was going. "…You'll come over tomorrow," he finished for her. A deep sigh drifted across the line from him after that unfathomable whisper. "You know you don't need to do that, Kino," he said. _

"_I want to," she shot back._

_There was a long pause._

_Sakura tensed._

"…_I'll see you, then."_

That had been the first phone call between them initiated by Syaoran. Of course, Sakura had asked him for that return call, but since when had Syaoran ever done anything for her just because she _asked_ him? Besides, though he had sounded oddly monotonous over the phone, he hadn't been impolite. In fact, the most surprising detail about the phone call had actually been his easy assent. Sakura had expected the call to be the usual, tricky maneuvering around words, but he had made it easy for the two of them last night.

_Which is a good thing, right? _she mused. _Besides, this is just a thank-you gift. It doesn't require his permission to give. _Her hands relaxed around her package. _Yes, just a thank-you gift, that's all…a thank-you gift for a friend who was a good teacher…_

Her nerves were just about ready to be put to the test of knocking on Syaoran's door when a sudden sight in the corridor jarred her senses into chaos again. Blood surged. "Hoeeee!" she squealed. The package in her hands teetered, precariously. _No, don't fall! _Her nerves leaped into overdrive, and for a terrifying second, she scrambled desperately for balance.

Then, amidst her panic, she felt her confronter's eyebrow cock.

Embarrassment hastened her balance; in a flash, she was steady.

Slowly, she raised her eyes, careful not to be shocked again. "Wh—what are you…why are you out here?" she asked.

Syaoran, who had jolted from his lax stance against the wall just outside his apartment's door, snatched his eyes away from her and tossed a scowl to the ceiling. "You said three," he said, vaguely.

"Hoe?"

"It's three-thirty," he expounded. "You're late."

Sakura could not suppress the flush that crept across her cheeks. "I…I'm sorry," she said. "I really _would_ have been here earlier, except Touya-niichan unknotted the ribbon while I was in the bathroom and I had to—well, here!" She thrust the package at him.

Syaoran's eyebrows shot up again. "What—?"

"I told you I'd make it up to you, and this is how I've decided to do it," she explained.

Syaoran's eyes widened as they settled on the package in his hands. The box was not large and did not weigh much, but it was meticulously packaged.

Meticulously packaged gifts were not things Li Syaoran was accustomed to receiving.

The box was made with white, textured cardboard and sealed with a thin, green satin band, crossed and knotted into a neat ribbon on top. The sides were painted with tiny integers and equations, signs and numbers in varying shades of green; and on top, splayed across the white surface so that it took up almost the entire space, was a large tree, impressive in its well-applied browns and greens.

Syaoran's eyes widened again when he glanced upon the figures beneath the overhangs: two silhouettes, a boy and girl, sitting amongst the roots and back-to-back against opposite sides of the trunk. On the upper left part of the surface, black kanji yelled out to him in her smooth lettering: Arigato, Syaoran-kun!

He stared at the words, vacantly, his expression unreadable.

"Uhm…I should warn you not to shake it," Sakura said. "It's nothing very special, but I did my best with it." A soft smile formed itself on her lips as she watched shy uncertainty seep across Syaoran's eyes.

She had worked very hard to finish the box the night before, barely sleeping just to finish it, and she was proud of the results. True, her father had coached her through the shadings of the tree and helped with the small numbers, but for the most part, the strokes were hers.

Moments passed. Sakura watched his features closely for indications of pleasure, probing subtly for eye contact, wishing he would say something.

He didn't.

Eventually, Sakura's attention began to wander, and that was when she noticed that today Syaoran wore a visor. She blinked at that, a bit surprised. It was the first time she had seen him wear one. It didn't look bad on him at all. The dark blue and white visor matched the white of his shirt, and hems of dark green cargo pants—that were neither too fitting nor too baggy—partially sheltered blue-slashed white rubber shoes.

He looked good.

Sakura's eyebrows knitted curiously. It was enough of a shocker to find him waiting for her outside his own apartment's door when she arrived, but it was even more of a puzzle to see that he was dressed to go out. Didn't he say over the phone that he was staying home?

Sakura felt some disappointment tug at her when she realized she must have come upon him just as he was about to leave for another appointment. An even sharper pang assaulted her when she considered that he had lied to her over the phone.

_Maybe that's why he's so angry that I'm thirty minutes late. I warped his schedule and delayed his appointment…._

But then, why? Why did he not just tell her he already had a former commitment? Or was this commitment of his some kind of secret? Sakura couldn't imagine what kind of secret commitment Li Syaoran would put himself into. _Unless…_ Her eyes widened slightly. …_Is Syaoran-kun going on a date? WITH WHOM?_

"Eh…Syaoran-kun…?" she ventured, gingerly. "Where are you going this afternoon?"

The amber-eyed boy raised his chocolate eyes from the gift to stare at her blankly.

"You look ready to go somewhere, and I just thought if I'm delaying you, I should get going now," she explained.

His blank stare continued for a minute or two, as if he mulling over some internal debate, then he heaved a sigh and shook his head. "Come on," he said. He leaned over to pick up a backpack that she had not noticed was leaning against the door until then, and walked off down the hallway.

"Um…Syaoran-kun, I'm sorry if I ruined your plans," she called after him. "I didn't mean to. You didn't have to wait for me. I could have left it with Wei-san if you had other commitments." Her heart sank a little when he refused even to look back at her. _Hoe… _she mused, miserably. _And I thought this day was going to be great…_

She was just about to round the banister to go down the stairs when she realized Syaoran was no longer ahead of her. "Hoe? Syaoran-kun?" She turned back around. "Ne…Syaoran-kun, where are you going? The stairs are this way! Syaoran-kun?"

But he nonchalantly ignored her and walked on towards another door just past the staircase. He hesitated for a moment before opening it. Snatching a glance past his shoulders, Sakura realized that it was a fire exit, a door that led out onto the metal platform of a narrow staircase that clung to the side of the building. Syaoran stepped out onto it. Pausing for a moment, he surveyed the scene; then he looked back towards her, eyebrows furrowing in genuine confusion when he found that she was still poised to go down the stairs. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"Oh, I, um…" Sakura's confusion rose to a maximum when Syaoran ignored her stammers and began to climb the stairs. _Wasn't he supposed to be going _down_stairs? _

She stepped out and followed him, warily.

_Hoe!_

The stairs were terrifying, to say the least! She had no phobias about height, but it was hard not to feel ill when you were traveling a noisy metal staircase that seemed to sway away from the wall that supported it with very step you took. It was all she could do not to ask Syaoran to hold her hand as they clambered up. Besides, in view of the staircase being strictly single-file, she figured there wasn't enough room for him to stay near her.

Slowly, she pushed herself to follow him upwards, biting back yelps as the staircase seemed to sway…and sway…and sway… It seemed to her like a very slow collapse. She felt so sure that any second now, the metal pieces would come apart… Any second now, she would fall and hit the ground… Any second now, she would die… Any second now…

A hand in front of her face shattered her concentration. She looked up, and Syaoran's amber eyes met wide emerald.

"Come on up," he said.

Eyes ever growing in size, she took his hand. Vaguely, she noted that he had a surprisingly strong grip—firm and sure. One pull, and she was on steady ground. "A—arigato…Syaoran-kun…" she murmured.

"You know, the stairs _are_ sturdy," he said.

Sakura received the hint of mockery with some resentment. "I knew that," she lied.

"You looked scared."

"So?"

Syaoran's lips curved into a smirk, and Sakura's features automatically moved towards the verge of a scowl, but she stopped herself. There was no point, especially when all she felt at the strike of his tacit tease was relief—relief that his mood at last showed signs of brightening. His odd performance since the beginning of the week had been a nagging source of bewilderment for her, and she appreciated how he decided to snap out of the lull by himself.

Curiously, Sakura cast her eyes around the place where Syaoran had led her. It was a plain rooftop, a flat span of gray cement bordered with a six-inch elevation that couldn't save anyone who stepped carelessly. It also featured a view of the city that seemed to be much more impressive if seen at night and thus could not compensate for the baldness of the place.

Sakura frowned slightly. It seemed that the only things that the rooftop could boast about were the cool zephyrs and the clear view of the skies.

Questions forming on her lips, she turned back to Syaoran, only to find that he had wandered off and was currently leaning over a particular spot on the cement. The shadows his visor played across his features failed to conceal an unexplained hesitation.

"Syaoran-kun, what are you doing there?" Sakura called to him. "And what are we doing up—" The last word died on her tongue as Syaoran suddenly yanked up a square block of cement, opening a square hole on the rooftop like a heavy, gray flap. "Hoe! Syaoran-kun, what did you do?"

"Sakura," he said. "I want to show you something."

She blinked, startled. He sounded serious. "What is it?"

He murmured a response that sounded vaguely like 'something I just remembered…'

Eyebrows knitting, Sakura came to him, and she realized with some relief that he hadn't, after all, yanked up a piece of the cement. That fraction of the roof really was a trapdoor, built with sturdy hinges and a sturdy ring handle. When she poked her head in, there was a ladder leading up to the opening.

"Where does this lead?" she asked.

For a moment, Syaoran looked at her with an intensity he had never used on her before: a blend of hesitation, scrutiny, and…was that sympathy? He tore away.

Uncomfortable bewilderment settled in Sakura's stomach. "Syaoran-kun…?"

"I guess now's as good at a time as ever," he murmured.

Seconds later, Sakura noted with some pleasure how Syaoran carefully handled the gift as he descended the wooden rungs. She followed him down, a jolt of fear passing over her when she couldn't find him upon reaching steady ground. The place was dark and smelled a bit musty, and dim light from the opening in the roof showed her that she was in an empty room. "Syaoran-kun?"

"Kino," Syaoran's voice reached her through several walls. "Out here…"

"Hey, don't leave me alone in a place like this…" Sakura murmured, tensely. She traced his location by sound, footsteps unsure as she walked out of the room and out into a dim hallway. "Syaoran-kun? Where are you?"

"I'm here."

"Where?"

"Here."

She found him standing in the middle of a large bedroom, as unfurnished as the rest of the apartment. Yet a second look told her that the place was somehow different. It was not as musty and did not feel as abandoned. If not for the blankness, the atmosphere was almost homey, like an attic of sweet childhood memories. The bright, afternoon light washed the room with a warm glow through the transparent doors to the balcony, illuminating the walls and…

Sakura's eyes widened.

_So many…sheets…_

All around the room drapes and drapes of white cloths and papers swayed from thumbtacks and clotheslines, almost concealing the walls from view. On every sheet, _a picture was drawn_, in pastels, inks, pencils or paints. It was almost magical! All of them were filled with sketches! There were beautiful gray strokes, often only half-splashed with colors, filling the spaces with life; illustrations of people, teens, adults, and children, all of them done with beautiful and candid simplicity—a sheepish waitress here, an old man playing the guitar there, a guy carrying his girlfriend on his back, a child with a stray cat, even a sketch of Syaoran and Wei moving into the apartment! All of them were moments that attracted and appealed to the artist's eye enough to inspire him to draw…

"This is beautiful," Sakura breathed. "It's all so beautiful…!"

"A painter used to live here, I think," Syaoran said, quietly. "He left these…"

"Wow, and I thought my painting on your gift was so great…" she said, with a bittersweet grin. She roamed the room, peeking at sketches in amazement, giggling at one or two. "Ne, Syaoran-kun, why did you show me this?"

"Well, I…remembered something when you—" One painting suddenly caught Sakura's eye, and Syaoran cut himself off with an almost imperceptible whisper: "…Yes, that's the one."

Breath froze in Sakura's chest as she took in the drawing.

All thoughts vanished.

Awareness of time abandoned her.

The picture was more than half-done, though far from finished, and it captured the scene of a mother and child—a smiling, honey-haired little girl with wide, emerald eyes, coaxing the beautiful older woman she was with to buy her some sweets in a candy shop. Oh, yes, the woman was beautiful—brilliantly sketched such that life and character seemed to flow out of her, her features alight with a living glow, alight with that radiant smile and those flowing, purple locks…

By the time Sakura's fingers tenderly touched the sketch, tears had blurred it in her eyes.

"I knew it…" Syaoran whispered.

His honey-haired companion's tears washed her cheeks as the word at last emerged from her lips: "Okaasan…" It came out as a heavy sob. Quickly, her left hand moved to her mouth to stifle whimpers.

Syaoran looked away, feeling slightly responsible for bringing her. "I'm sorry," he murmured. He handed her a handkerchief, but in her absorption in the drawing, she didn't see it. He took her hand and pressed the cloth into her palm, his hand squeezing hers ever so slightly. He did not know how he knew that it was a gesture of comfort, but however it happened he was relieved that it snapped her back to reality.

Wet, green eyes pierced his. "How…how did you know about this place?" she asked.

"I used to come to the roof often…at night, you know, to think of things… A trapdoor like that was a real curiosity, and I traced it downstairs to this unoccupied apartment…so…" He trailed off with a slight shrug and let her finish the story for herself.

"Why did you show me this now?"

"It was your gift…your painting…it reminded me…and then there were also your eyes…" _Their sincerity—so much like that child's…and your smile—so much like that woman's…_

Sakura nodded, somberly, pretending she understood. "I see…" Her gaze moved back to the drawing, and a slight smile broke from her—joy and sorrow incarnate in the curve of her lips.

Discreetly, Syaoran left her and went out to the balcony. He seated himself precariously on the railing and prepared to wait until Sakura regained her bearings. She didn't come to him until twenty or thirty minutes later, a smile on her lips, nose and cheeks pink, but eyes wonderfully clear.

"Sakura…" Syaoran said. "I'm sorry if this upset you—"

"No, don't." She shook her head. "Please don't apologize. I'm glad you showed it to me." Her eyes flickered towards the unopened present still in his hands. "You haven't opened it. Why don't you? I hope it's still okay. It's nothing incredible, but I finally made it decent after two or three tries." She giggled, sheepishly. "I didn't mind doing it though, Syaoran-kun. Go on. Open it. Please."

So he did.

Quite slowly, he unlaced the ribbon, a weird sort of tension impeding his speed.

He lifted the lid.

He did not know what his face looked like when he saw what was inside, only that it made Sakura laugh. "Lift that jaw, Syaoran-kun," she said.

He had no idea whether he obeyed or not. The aroma of the beautiful, moist, deep brown, chocolate cake filled his senses. Sight alone told him how it would taste. Then and there, Syaoran abandoned all resistance to a flush.

"Sakura…I…you didn't have to…" he stammered, and then gave up to a defeated sigh. "…Thanks…"

"Actually, that should be my line," she said.

She leaned against the rail beside him, eyes drifting towards the drawing inside the painter's room. "Syaoran-kun…if you only knew…she was so beautiful," she whispered. "No wonder that artist felt like drawing us. To think that I can't even remember that day too clearly now… Shameful, isn't it? We had so little time together…yet I forgot about it… That's why…Syaoran-kun…I'm so glad you showed me…you gave me this chance to think back…" She trailed off to entertain a stray teardrop with his handkerchief.

"Sakura…"

She looked up at him after a minute or two. "You know…you're not unkind at all, Syaoran-kun," she said.

"Eh?" A flush took advantage of his momentary shock to invade his cheeks. "What are you talking about all of a sudden?" She merely grinned in response to that, which deepened his embarrassment. He was glad she did not look at him to see.

Several minutes dragged on in silence, and just as the afternoon sun began to show signs of sinking, Syaoran opened his backpack and handed her a can of soda. She blinked, surprised, but decided to receive it without any questions. He pulled out another can for himself, then, after some rummaging, a pocketknife. A glimpse in his bag showed Sakura a pen, a small notebook, and an umbrella.

"Wow," she commented.

"I didn't want us to stick around the apartment…" Syaoran explained, awkwardly.

Escaping further questions, he quickly proceeded to cut some pieces of the chocolate cake for the two of them. Sakura giggled incredulously at the idea of using their hands to eat, but they ended up doing it anyway. The taste was just as Syaoran had imagined it to be; heaven only knew what his ego endured to thank her enough. When twilight settled in, with only two more slices of the cake left, they closed the box and retied the ribbon, picked up their empty soda cans, licked their fingers, and ascended the ladder to the rooftop.

Syaoran walked her home.

On their doorstep, he requested—ordered—her to let him redeem himself.

"That's not the point of my gift, you know," she said.

"Still. I need to."

"Well, if it comforts you, but I don't know how—"

"Next Friday," Syaoran said, and left it at that.

(CUT)

It was during a recess the following week that Syaoran suddenly found himself confronted by Nachika Hayli—not by choice, of course. He, Sakura, and Tomoyo had just parted ways to go on to their next, separate classes, when, in an almost-deserted hallway, his way was suddenly blocked by Hayli's scantily clad, perfume-reeking, exaggeratedly posed body.

She gave him a wide, unattractive smirk, and Syaoran almost wished spitting at another person wasn't obscene.

"Spare me your insults and piss off," he said, automatically.

Hayli's glossy hair swayed as she shook her head at him. "No, I don't think so, Li," she drawled. "Not until I let you in on a little something. Just between you and me, of course…or maybe someone else…"

Syaoran assumed a look that told her she was wasting her time trying to entice him; he would hold no esteem for whatever she was about to say. What sense could a lying fraud like Nachika Hayli make for him anyway?

"Come on, Li, aren't you curious?" she wheedled, to make his impressions on her even worse. "This will only be for a second…"

Irritated now, Syaoran struggled with himself to reign in his temper, only barely managing not to curse the woman aloud. She was too irksome for her own good! Even more frustrating was the fact that it would take up more of his time if he tried to escape her! "Spit it out and scram," he said.

Hayli pouted and clucked her tongue, disapprovingly. "So angry…" she commented, under her breath. "Here, all a girl is trying to do is give a small piece of advice and you dismiss her oh so rudely… Tsk tsk… So unappreciative…"

Syaoran couldn't care less. "You're wasting my time," he said.

"Oh?" she murmured. "Is that so…? I'll make this quick then…" Suddenly, her eyes flashed, and he almost recoiled. The change in them from deceit to hatred was so stark! The darkness in her glare was noxious, livid, and as wickedly captivating as a flashing danger sign. The rest of her features did not distort in any way, yet her eyes were poisonous daggers. The words emerged from her in a malevolent, unexpected warning: "Don't fall for Sakura."

_WHAT?_ Syaoran controlled his surprise by just a hair's breadth. "What makes you think—?"

"_Don't_ deny it!" Hayli lashed out. "It's written all over your face, Li, so don't even try." A bitter smile took over her lips. "You're one step away from falling, and I'm telling you, don't—not for Sakura."

Moments passed while his dull, brown eyes lingered coldly on hers in pure and intense hostility, concealing the furious reeling of his mind. _Why is this powder-faced fiend going out of her way to tell me this? Damn her, this is none of her business! _"Remind me why I'm listening to you," he said.

Hayli laughed, cynically. "Wow, Li, you really are too cold!" she exclaimed. "But that's alright. I don't care if you're being unreasonably rude towards a girl who's only trying to help…"

"Bull."

She laughed again. "Well, okay, I admit, with the li'l ole me helping, yeah—all crap." Then she sobered again. "But for the rest, Li, I'm serious. Don't try to love Sakura. She's as much a fiend as I am, and that shouldn't be too hard for you to swallow. After she gets you, she'll step on you and your wasted heart and smirk at the remains. Trust me—"

"Leave me alone." Syaoran shouldered past her.

"Don't you remember how it used to be like, Li Syaoran?" Hayli called after him. "You and Sakura—don't you remember? The donut, the soccer ball, the outburst in the cafeteria…those beautiful battles when everything was still normal and fine and dandy…?"

"Yeah, no thanks to you," he said.

Hayli released another bitter laugh. Her tones echoed in the now-empty corridor, the lethal quality reverberating dissonantly. "On the contrary, you should be thanking me!" she said. "You don't know it yet, but I've done your ass two favors: one, your cute friendship—or can you really it really that?—well, whatever cute thing you have going with Sakura; and two—" She flourished a hand like Syaoran could see it with his back turned "—this."

The smirk on his face could be felt in his voice. "Don't flatter yourself," he told her. "You'll never have anything to do with me."

"Oh?" Hayli shot back, haughtily. "Have you never wondered why she approached you in the first place? Why she suddenly decided to 'bridge the gap'? Why she suddenly decided to become your _friend_?"

Against his will, Syaoran froze in his tracks.

"Yes, think, Li," Hayli goaded. "Honestly, I didn't think you were gullible enough not to wonder what her motives could have been! Go on now—think! Why?"

_Why…? _

The question danced unrepressed in Syaoran's head. He wished he could shut it out, but it was a hopeless cause. The gears in his head began to work at the possibilities, and for the first time, he felt a sense of apprehension at Nachika Hayli's words. All he could do was fight to maintain an illusion of nonchalance.

_Sakura… _

_Why…? _

Why _did_ she suddenly decide to be friends with him? She was the popular girl, the campus queen, the darling of the in-crowd… She hated him. So, why?

_Why? Could it have something to do with…?_

"Oh, yes," Hayli intoned, triumphantly, eyebrow arching. "Me."

Hell broke loose in Syaoran's chest. His heartbeat raced.

"I _told _her to play with you, Li Syaoran," the malicious doll continued, failing to sense his darkening mood. "I _dared_ her to capture and crush you. It was a bet actually, and I must tell you, in our circle, dares and bets are very provocative. Ah…your back is turned but I can feel you stiffening. Yes, I encourage you to think it over because it _does _make sense. No kidding, I did."

Syaoran's fists clenched. It was bad enough that he was already late for his next class, bad enough that he saw she actually had a point, but to rub salt into the injury of his ego was beyond pardon! More than ever, he wished murder were not illegal.

_Sakura couldn't have been just pretending this entire time…! It's not possible!_

"For further proof, I could tell you my reasons," Hayli piped up again. "You'll see it all adds up. I dared her because you were a low-class dork, and I wanted you to pull her down. Why did I want you to pull her down? Simply because I wanted to show her who was still the boss between us. She was becoming too full of herself, you see; I needed to demonstrate a power gap. You were at the right place at the right time for my convenience. Honestly, I didn't think she had it in her to try and seduce _you_—you, of all people!—but it seems I underestimated her…"

Syaoran turned back around to face her. He did not say a word; his features were cool; but the intensity of his anger was unmistakable in his eyes. She had crossed the line by miles, and he was ready to break the rules to show her he was not about to let her offenses off easily.

The threat in his gaze manifested their impact on Hayli's features. She took a tense, involuntary step back, mouth tightening. A second later, she rearranged her face into a look of defiant haughtiness.

"What?" she challenged, in a voice that had lost a shade or two of venom. "I'm not lying or trying to be nice here, you know. I don't care if you get hurt! You just need to know the truth so I could win. Ask anyone about it. Better yet, ask Daidouji or Eriol-kun. Sad to admit, but those two are no puppets of mine. They might convince you and your brainwashed head. Oi—!" She cut off abruptly when Syaoran showed his back to her again. Heat of insult suffused her face under the layers of cosmetics.

"Go to hell, Nachika," he said, in a murderous whisper. With that, he was gone.

(CUT)

The voice of the maid was slightly muffled when she called to her young mistress through the bedroom door. "Miss Tomoyo," she announced, after three perfunctory knocks. "A _Li Syaoran_ is on the phone for you."

Tomoyo jerked up from her homework at the name. "Li-kun? Really?"

"I believe that's what he said, Miss."

"Okay, I'll pick up the call from my phone!" She scrambled towards her bedside table and grabbed the cordless phone. "Got it! You can put it down now, Sanagi-san! Thank you!"

"No sweat, Miss Tomoyo."

Curiously, Tomoyo held the phone to her ear and spoke tentatively into the mouthpiece. "Hello? This is Tomoyo."

"Hey… It's me…"

"Li-kun!"

"Yeah."

Tomoyo's eyes narrowed slightly. From the coolness of his tone, his dim mood was not difficult to detect. "Is there something wrong?" she asked. "What can I do for you? Something about Sakura?"

"Maybe…" A long and tense silence tortured their conversation. When he spoke again, Syaoran's voice was a chillingly subdued murmur. "Daidouji… I need to ask you something…and I need you to tell me the truth…"

(CUT)

TBC


	19. Surrender

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Alright. The newest chapter. I'm very, very, very sorry for not putting this up sooner. Finding myself in college removed me from my anime/fanfiction phase, although that's not about to stop me from finishing this story. Yes, I do hereby promise to finish this story and will not leave it hanging in the archives like a blotted jigsaw (although I cannot promise swift updates. I do promise I won't leave the story for 2 years this time though).

This chapter might be a bit shocking so I really, really advise that you get back into the feel of the story before reading this. By "getting back into the feel" I mean, reading back a bit, rediscovering what this story is about, reliving the progress, and re-imagining what has been happening to the way that our two characters have been seeing each other. This is _crucial_, because this chapter would be lost on you as a disappointing and sudden plunge in pacing if you don't. (HINT: rapid developments up ahead).

Personally, even if it's in danger of being too fast or too sudden, I love this chapter and I loved writing it. So, please give it the best chance it has of getting this story back into pace and getting back into your hearts. Read and review. Thank you!

XIX – Surrender

She was beautiful.

She was beautiful in the rain. She was beautiful when she smiled. She was beautiful beside his locker every morning. She was beautiful across the table in the cafeteria. She was beautiful in the pale afternoon light. She was beautiful, popping out from behind the stern scrutiny of her older brother when Syaoran came to their doorstep beneath the Friday twilight. She was beautiful when she blinked in surprise as he walked with her to the entrance of the carnival.

"Because you need a break," he had said, simply, to her tacit question. "I thought you seemed the type to like this. I saw a flyer, advertising it…"

Her eyes had welled with excitement, and she was beautiful when she squealed and pulled him in.

Her delight was a child's in every ride, every horror house, and every gamble in every carnival game. Syaoran never bothered to catch his thoughts anymore, never tried to assess them. He watched her with a quiet indifference that bordered on fatigue, not thinking of what he looked like, what he said, or whatever his actions betrayed. He didn't wonder, didn't ask, didn't contradict himself. When she bought him a hotdog on a stick and asked if he wanted his with ketchup or mayonnaise, he even let go of Tomoyo's voice in his head, saying, "Li-kun…it's true…"

It's true.

Syaoran had sighed then, and sighed all throughout the week in his head—sighed when he watched her dance through life beside him and he found himself following her lead despite the constant worry in Tomoyo's eyes when she looked at him. Everyday, he came home exhausted, suffering the truth of her laughter and the truth of its reason for chiming along with his, suffering the question of why one did not cancel out the other.

Tomoyo had confirmed it. Hayli's smirk each time she passed him confirmed it. Only Sakura hadn't—Sakura, who was so beautiful, not because of the radiance of her face, but because of the reality that her child's spirit had become to him. He had dissected it with all the power of his logic, butchering his own emotions so he could hold them under the light and extract their significance. He ended up cursing himself to sleep every night for believing everything that he had heard _and_ everything that he had seen for himself, even if they were the worst of contradictions: that she was a fraud, that she was real.

He had asked why so often, he was sick of it.

He had hated her and stayed with her all this time, wondering, and he was sick of it.

When he found himself sitting beside her on a bench that Friday evening, with her balloon animal bouncing idly in her hands, he thought, in exhausted surrender, _I'm sorry, Mom_.

And he stood up.

She was beautiful when she blinked in surprise. "Li-kun?"

He faced her.

Tomoyo's voice whispered in his mind. _"It's true."_

Sakura stood up too, and he thought, she was a fraud. She was faking it. She was a joke. She wanted his heart just to shatter it. She did not deserve to be his downfall. "Is everything okay?" she asked.

She was beautiful.

And in the few seconds it took for him to find his voice, the dam of all his feelings shattered in his head and flooded him again, violent and real—the shock of his broken defenses, the astonishment of his pride suddenly in pieces on the ground, the hatred towards Hayli, Sakura, Tomoyo…and towards himself, the emotional carnage behind his seeming indifference the week after he knew the joke that all their afternoons and study sessions had been, the reality of his defeat, the beauty of her spirit alive in her eyes.

All this time, he never asked her for her version of the story, never told her he knew. He wondered why he couldn't bring himself to, and now the lone, standing, humiliating theory was that he feared to do it because it might extinguish that light in her smile and make her stay away from him.

She was his endless question. She always had been. And when the strands of honey hair blew gently across her face in the evening breeze, with the sparkles in her eyes as his guiding star, he knew she was his answer.

He was ready.

"Sakura…"

She blinked. The way he said her name told her she should have grasped something significant simply by hearing it. She felt embarrassed that none of it got through her. She ventured, "Li-kun?"

His eyes raised to hers, and she blinked in surprise.

There was pain. There, in his depths. A raw, indescribable pain.

"S...Syaoran, what's—?"

He heard her gasp before his lips took it away from hers.

_I'm sorry, Mom._

It was not deep. It was not long. It was not violent. It was the briefest, lightest, yet surest press, like an affectionate gesture of gratitude—not an impulse but a meaningful kiss that he hardly felt because the significance of it was not a confession to him but a fact.

The shock in her eyes lasted until he withdrew his hand that had gone up to lift her chin before he even realized it. Looking at the questions burning in her gaze, he felt nothing again—nothing but a dull ache he had carried since his conversation with Tomoyo, now amplified into a solid emotion that, as he observed Sakura's every move and every spoken word this past week, he had learned to name as a broken heart.

He lowered his head when his emotions again began to flutter dangerously to the surface, spelling out a solid, almost tangible pain. Exhaustion flooded him. The astonishment on her face could find no voice. The answers in his head surrendered their screaming to silence.

"Syaoran-k…"

He took the name away from her when he faced her again. Even she didn't seem to have heard herself.

His eyes were clear when he locked them with hers, when he whispered in a tone that was heartbreaking in its quiet, resilient, enduring control, "Sakura. You have won your bet."

(CUT)

She felt no triumph.

She found herself in the familiar circle of walking face powder and lipstick brands, and she felt nothing when she told Hayli, "Well, there you are. Had him and lost him." _Dropped him_, a voice in her head corrected her. She ignored it.

Hayli's eyebrow rose to her hairline. "You're bluffing," she said.

"No."

Tomoyo's expression was uncharacteristically, unpleasantly sour. "He said it already." The line bordered on a snap.

"Well, who asked _you_?" Hayli shot back. Her face had distorted into a tight look of suppressed outrage that denied defeat. Her vicious brown eyes snapped back to Sakura. "Since when were you planning to pop out with this lie? Did you think I'd believe it if you've wasted several months on him already?"

"Sakura isn't lying—"

"Shut up, Tomoyo."

The air all around the table tensed. The other girls shifted uneasily, glancing from Hayli to Tomoyo to Sakura and back again to Hayli, every one of them afraid to say anything. Sakura felt nothing. She stared at Hayli, her eyes blank. Hayli would have looked perfectly composed staring back, if the tense press of her fingers against the table hadn't betrayed her.

"Don't lie to me, Sakura," she ventured, her voice very carefully moderated, determined to sound, if not to stay, in control. "I know he hates your guts."

_He kissed me._

"He indulged you for a time but now he doesn't even look at you. I saw him earlier. He wasn't looking for you. Believe me. _I_ _asked_."

Sakura didn't hear her. There was nothing to hear. Nothing to feel. For some reason that escaped her and that she didn't try to search for, nothing meant anything to her anymore, not around this table. There was no bet, no pressure—no illusions of power. Her circle searched her face for reactions, but she gave away nothing. She felt nothing. In this table, she was with nothing and she _was _nothing. Stripped of all delusions, there was absolutely nothing.

Her only solid image was Syaoran, a picture in her head that one else saw.

…_It was not because he felt strong enough to do it. I know so. I know, because for the first time…for the first time…I…felt him._

"You really shouldn't be so desperate, Sakura. I mean, it's just a bet." Hayli sounded far away. And stupid. "Although I do find it funny that you weren't able to bend the pushover. I mean, it's just Li Syaoran. I would have thought several months would have given you developments, but, hey, it was my fault for thinking too highly of you…"

Hayli was nothing.

_Syaoran-kun..._

"_You have won…your bet."_

Hayli looked more relaxed now, probably fueled by the lack of reply. "You really shouldn't have been so cocky in the beginning anyway. You gave me ideas that you were spunkier than you are. Don't look like such a loser. Really now, Sakura, don't be ashamed."

_At his weakest, his eyes were his traitors._

"That's enough, Hayli," Tomoyo said.

"So you're going to back her story up, Daidouji? You staged his confession in a video?"

_Syaoran…_

Sakura didn't know what was happening. She did not know why she wanted to cry.

"You weren't here when that Li made Sakura look ridiculous in front of everybody, Daidouji. You weren't here when he doused her with soda. So tell me that the said person is in love with her and bring me along when you catch them making out."

_Syaoran…_

"You really don't know anything, so stay out of this."

…_I'm sorry._

(CUT)

Tomoyo looked at Hayli, struggling with her own temper as she took in the gall of the brown-eyed doll. Privately, she tore off Hayli's brown hair and slammed her squealing for mercy against a wall, marking every single one of her curses with the hit of a bokken on her rotten ass. You bitch. You airhead. You deluded moron.

Everyone had resumed eating in silence after Hayli's speech. Sakura still hadn't spoken.

She looked so blank—so scarily blank.

Tomoyo wondered what really happened. All Sakura told her was that Syaoran had said she had won her bet. Tomoyo tried to ask for details, but her best friend had been less than responsive. She thought it her best gesture of friendship and support not to press for more information—at least, not from Sakura. She tried to engage Syaoran in conversation a few times, but none of them ended too well.

Their last one told her she couldn't get anything from him either:

"_Li-kun…how have you been doing?"_

_An unfathomable silence._

"_Li-kun, can I ask you something?"_

_A glance._

"_Who told you there was a bet?"_

_He turned away. _Never mind. _His voice was ice. "Thank you for telling me the truth."_

The phone call with him several days back had been torture for her. She felt like the line was turning to ice. It confused her that he had still stayed with them throughout the week even knowing what he knew. She almost wondered if he thought she was lying, or if he had deleted the phone conversation from memory, but there was nothing in his manner toward her that suggested it. He did not cast her accusatory glances or give her the cold shoulder. Neither did he act like nothing was wrong, because he made no effort to disguise his silences—which had started to come more often—and pensive moods. Yet he never said a word about the issue. This made it more terrifying for her to bring it up with him, so she never did. She partially hoped and partially expected him to ask twice about it, but he didn't.

In any event, the burning question of how he knew there had been a bet in the first place haunted her. She loathed the fact that he knew because she was sure that during the last few months, the bet had become completely irrelevant to their relationship. She thought everything would have worked out just fine if he hadn't known, even if his questions on why Sakura had decided to make peace so suddenly remained unanswered. It wouldn't have mattered anymore. But now, there was no way out of it. The past loomed above all of them, a usurper of the present, sabotage, blackmail—the undeniable truth.

She wanted to grab him in the halls and shake him by the shoulders, shouting, "Yes, Syaoran! She fooled you! But only at first—_only at first!_ Remember how good everything was before you had known? You were good for each other!" And then he would see that they had healed each other, that she had healed him of his loneliness, that he had healed her of her delusions. He would realize that they were the best kind of people they could be with each other, and he would go and seek Sakura. And Sakura…

Tomoyo's eyes went to Sakura, who sat across the table still drenched in her silence.

She didn't know how Sakura would react. She didn't know what to do or what to say because she couldn't predict what Sakura would do. It was true. She didn't know anything.

In some miniscule, unbelievable way, Hayli was right.

The things in her head were all just ideals. She didn't know Syaoran enough. She didn't know Sakura enough. She had no license to act on anything on their behalf. Their sentiments were not for her to touch, because she had learned during the past few months that only their sincerity towards each other could move the other's emotions. She, witness, sympathizer, and ultimate supporter, knew only the faintest throbs of their pulse, but the footage she treasured were plenty to assure her that they were happier left alone, away from these cosmetics-caked bitches.

Tomoyo looked at Hayli, with her haughty confidence and disgusting claim of victory.

Five seconds of certain footage would prove to her that Syaoran really did learn to love Sakura, but she thought it demeaning to share such things with dirt like Hayli. Really, to be thought of as one of them by the student body, even though it did grant such frivolities as swifter passage through the crowds, demoralized her, and the only reason why she stayed around that table was Sakura, in whom she believed with all her heart, that she would someday break free and reclaim her beautiful spirit.

Syaoran, definitely, had been on his way to making her grasp that spirit, but someone, _someone_ had ruined everything by letting him know of the bet—someone who had deliberately wanted to destroy everything, someone who had told him in such a way that it slashed their relationship to pieces.

Watching the smug smile on Hayli's face, more _I knew it, it's done _than _I'm glad it didn't work out_, Tomoyo knew for sure that she had found her answer.

(CUT)

Syaoran thought the truth was a catalyst of sorts. He thought _would _have fallen for Sakura, even if he wasn't told about the bet. The fact that he still found himself next to her in class and teaching her polynomials in a whisper after he knew confirmed it. He found no reason to fool himself into a raging confrontation with her. All he felt was that dull, dull ache, aching in his head, aching in his chest, dull and aching and impossible to ignore. He didn't care anymore. He let it ache.

He did not find her beside his locker the next Monday. He did not sit next to her in class. Tomoyo made few attempts to engage him in conversation, but they only ended in civil nothingness. He never gave her space to talk about anything. Sakura returned to her crowd and he never dared to explore whether or not she glanced his way when he passed them by.

He did not think about embarrassment at all, although he felt eyelined, blush-onned stares burn into his back at times. He knew what he had found in Sakura. He knew he had experienced the best that she was, and the girl who made the mess of students part in the hallways was a ghost of the past he did not care to share anything with. It didn't matter what people thought, if they saw him as stupid or duped. They were all idiots.

Still, it felt empty without her.

It felt new.

But, at the very least, he thought, for that radiant girl he had kissed in a Friday evening breeze, he should be strong enough to live through it.

(CUT)

"It's over, Eriol-kun…" Sakura's voice was a desolate whisper in the wind that blew gently across the soccer field that afternoon. On the bleachers beside her, Eriol turned his glance from the intensity of her sorrow to the group of players in the center of the field training under the sinking sun.

It was a sentimental, red-and-orange-sunset afternoon, and Eriol was beside Sakura on the bleachers just after school. But their eyes were far from appreciating the glow of the skies and the racing clouds. Sakura kept her eyes away from anything that triggered thoughts of how certain afternoons had looked a certain way just the week before, when she walked under it with a quiet rhythm of footsteps accompanying hers as she walked home. That was only last week, a past from which an eternity seemed to separate her.

Eriol did not attempt to cheer her up or throw her riddles. He stayed beside her, quiet, knowing it was his best form of support. He did not know anything about what had happened yet. All he knew was that the new girl, Daidouji, had approached him that afternoon and requested him to help Sakura, because she did not know if she was adequate for any real aid. Moved by the sincerity of the amethyst eyes, he did not fail to oblige her request, and after class, he brought it upon himself to wait until Tomoyo was picked up from school by a limousine. Then he took his cue and took Sakura by the hand.

Her low, cheerless whisper continued beside him, ethereal in the wind, though intense in their honesty. "He knows, Eriol-kun. He knows. I don't know how he did. I didn't tell him… I didn't even know he was already…his feelings… Eriol-kun, I should be happy. I won the bet. He said it himself… But I'm not. I'm not happy. I felt him when he—"She broke off. "I don't know what I've done…"

Eriol thought it best not to betray his surprise. Of course, he wasn't at all shocked that the boy fell in love with Sakura, but— "He knew about the bet…before he told you he was in love with you?" he asked, managing to sound composed.

Sakura nodded.

"I see…" _Amazing._

He looked back on the dark-eyed guy he had provoked out of silence in the library a long time back, and he marveled at the resilience that silence had hidden. Of course, the fact that he had stayed his own course and never bended to the popular crowd's opinion of him what seemed to be eons ago was already a testament to his strength, but the beauty of his loyalty to his own feelings was beyond Eriol's verbal prowess.

How the hell did he manage to concretize his loss in his own head by admitting the love he had developed for what had started out as a lie? Why wasn't he outraged? Why did he still push through?

"Eriol-kun…" Sakura's head pressed against his shoulder. Her arms were limp, her hands defeated and slack. "Eriol-kun, I think…"

"Ssh. You're tired…"

Sakura pressed her head further, and he took her hand. Her grip on his fingers automatically tightened, shook, white at the knuckles. It was anger, frustration. It was regret. The intensity of her feelings defeated his grasp. He felt her struggle, felt her crack. "Eriol-kun…I didn't want to…" she whispered. "I didn't want to…"

"Sakura. Don't do this to yourself."

She pulled her hand from his and pushed herself into his embrace. Her face was buried into his chest now. Her body was tense. Her voice grew thinner. "I was weak…wasn't I…? Eriol-kun…"

"Sakura."

"Not like him…" Her grip tightened. "I deserve it… I…deserve—"

Her instability began to unnerve him. "Sakura, don't do this…" he murmured. "Believe me. Believe me, you didn't lose him. He's there. He won't leave." Her body grew even tenser, emotional pain becoming physical. "Sakura, listen to me. You might think he'll go, but, now that I know what he's capable of, I'm confident he won't. Sakura…he loves you—"

She slammed a clenched fist against him.

Eriol quieted.

"Eriol-kun, I…I lost—"

Then her shoulders began to shake.

And Eriol held her for the longest time.

(CUT)

TBC

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Well, I hope I didn't disappoint. Personally, I think a bomb like Hayli's assault (see Chapter XVIII) _would _have prompted a definite decision from Syaoran. It had to. But before I persist with defenses, let me cut myself off and say I hope I've made it convincing somehow. Shall be writing again soon. Inspire me.


End file.
